Part of the Show
by Andi Horton
Summary: Finally finished! Thank you all so much for your enjoyment of what could have been a tired old plot redone to death, but has actually turned into a pretty decent semiparody. Port Royal will never be the same again.
1. Blame the theatre candy

Part of the Show

000

Okay, I don't own the movie – I wish I did. It would probably keep me from doing things as crazy as this. Nor do I own Ginny, for that matter. Ginny is, in fact, her mother's problem, and in one or two short weeks she'll be her roommate's problem. I do own me, inasmuch as anybody can truly own himself or herself, but I guess I don't have to worry about being stolen to use in a fic, do I? Anyway, that's my roundabout way of saying I'm not worth suing, but please, don't plagiarize me.

And now, before this goes any further – although in my opinion I've let it go too far already – I would like to make the following excuses for this piece of . . . utter insanity.

Firstly, I was bored. It happens occasionally, and this time just happened to be . . . not a good time for it to happen, as I was feeling inspired. Secondly, I do owe Ginny a pirate story. I'm working on one, but I'm working on a lot of other things as well, so this seemed the easiest way out. Thirdly . . . well, I'm honestly enjoying myself. There. I said it. Stone me if you will, lynch me if you must, but I am, in my own bizarre little way, honestly enjoying writing this utterly insane fic. Whether or not you enjoy reading it . . . well, I guess that's your problem. If you do enjoy it, let me know, and once I get over my shock I'll love you forever, but if you don't, that's fine. Actually, it's downright understandable.

In any case, please- try, at least, to enjoy!

000

000

I honestly do not know what made me say yes. I really, really don't.

I should have said no. I know that now. But at the time . . . I couldn't see any reason to do so.

Now, of course, I can see lots of reasons- hindsight is always 20/20. I was cranky. I was tired. I had just gotten over a nasty bout of pneumonia, and had no desire to contract another. I had already seen it twice, had enjoyed it well enough and was fully prepared to buy it when it was released to DVD. I therefore had no reason to shell out another eight bucks to watch it on one of the local theatre's tiny big screens. But I didn't see it that way at the time. I never do. So when Ginny called me up, and asked if I wanted to go and see _Pirates of the Caribbean_ for what would for me be the third time and for her the sixth, I didn't make excuses. I didn't even try to think of them. I just said yes.

As a result, we met up outside of the theatre, the pair of us evidently pretty much the only two people still interested in watching a show that had already been running for two weeks in town- a town that didn't normally get movies until after the other theatres had stopped showing them anyway.

We bought our tickets – eight dollars and forty-five cents – and our snacks – they put too much salt on the popcorn. They always do – found our seats in the empty theatre – dead center, of course – and settled back to watch the show.

In my own defense, I can only say that I had been running a day camp all summer long; had, as I've said, just been severely ill, and was still not feeling up to snuff. In short, I was bone tired, and the theatre seats are actually very, very comfortable.

In Ginny's defense, I can't say anything. That's up to her. She gives tours in an old museum and wears a funky hat that makes her look like a dairymaid, but I'd trade jobs with her in a second. Hers seems so much less taxing. But then, what do I know? Something must have worn her out, in any case, because as far as I know, she began nodding off at the same time I did.

Our heads drooped, rolled, and then fell back. As the mist rolled across the screen and the ship appeared in the midst of it, I felt my eyelids growing increasingly heavier. I thought the words as the actors spoke them in an absent-minded sort of way, and watched as Young Elizabeth became Less Young But Still Far From Anything Close to Aged Elizabeth in, literally, the blink of an eye.

The screen lightened, the Governor appeared, and the corset fiasco began as I felt myself nodding off. The sun rose high in the sky, and I felt my cheeks grow warm. I tried to fight it, I really did.

_No way can I fall asleep,_ I thought._ I paid thirteen ninety-five for this seat and these snacks, and I am getting my . . ._

The thought somehow vanished for a second. Then it reappeared, and with renewed vigor I opened my eyes to the Commodore's commitment ceremony.

It was as familiar as always, of course. I could almost feel the sun beating down from above. I- wait a bloody second, I _could_ feel the sun beating down from above. I could also smell the sea. I knew it was the sea because, having grown up next to it, I knew that the "salty tang of the sea air" is more of a romantic notion than anything else. That "salty tang" is really rotting fish and slimy algae, and I recognized both as I spun around, wide eyed, panning as the cameras would have done . . . had there been any cameras.

There were, however, none. Instead there was just me, slumped over in a scarcely existent shadow, with Ginny snoozing sweetly at my side. She looked so peaceful it was almost a shame to wake her, but I was feeling panicked, and I panic better when I have company, so I reached over and gave her a violent jerk.

"Wake up!" I yelped, and she obeyed with such alacrity I became almost grumpy. I wanted a reason to blame somebody, and if she was going to do what I told her to, I was going to be hard pressed to find a reason to blame her.

"I'm awake," she observed crossly. "You think I'd really fall asleep in the middle of- of-"

She broke off, blinking at her surroundings in vague astonishment.

"Eh . . . where'd you put the theatre?" she wanted to know. Then she looked around and added, for good measure, "Where'd you put _North America_?"

"Me?! Don't put this off on _me_- _you_ were the one who wanted to come see it again, remember?"

"Well, I sure didn't want to see _this_ much of it!" she complained. "This is too weird! What is this, some sort of joint hallucination?"

I blinked, the thought having not yet occurred to me.

"Oh- oh, yeah, maybe. Maybe it was something in the gummies. I never do trust movie theatre candy. I mean, it's been sitting there for who knows how long. Can you say shelf life? Ick. But maybe we're just . . . dreaming, or something."

The thought was an oddly relaxing one.

"Good," Ginny sighed. "Then . . . well, we can go back to sleep, right?"

I hesitated.

"Maybe . . . yeah, maybe that would be best."

We exchanged glances, and Ginny shrugged.

"Well? You first."

I shook my head.

"Nuh-uh. You first."

She, too, shook her head.

"No. I don't want to."

"Well, neither do I. I want to look around."

Ginny nodded.

"Yeah. Me too. So . . . you want to stay for the ceremony?"

I looked over to where the Governor was beginning what promised to be a very long and involved speech about the general virtue of the soon-to-be-Commodore, and felt a yawn begin to build.

"Nope. I'll pass. I- um- actually, I wouldn't mind getting out of these." I pointed down at my shorts. "Dream or not, I feel a bit . . . conspicuous in them, you know?"

Ginny arched an eyebrow.

"And you think you'd be less conspicuous _without_ them on?"

I glared.

"Without _them_," I clarified, "but _with_ something else."

"Ahh," she nodded. "Sure. So- where do we go to take care of that?"

I tilted my head to think.

"Well, let's just for a second say we're having an . . . extremely detailed, vivid and authentic dream. In the eighteenth century, they didn't sell any clothes off the rack, so . . . we're going to either have to track down a seamstress and put in an order that would take longer than the whole movie to fill, or . . ." I swallowed, and fiddled with the hem of my tank top. It was yellow, and comfy, and pretty, but wholly inappropriate for our current setting. Ginny arched an eyebrow.

"Or what?" she prompted, and I dropped my eyes as I mumbled something about the wealth of opportunities afforded us by clotheslines. Ginny gave me a look of mock indignation intermingled with scarcely concealed delight.

"Are you suggesting that we _steal_?!"

"No!" I covered my ears. "No, I wasn't, forget it, I never-"

Then I glared at her as she doubled over, laughing. "Look," I huffed, "just because _I_ happen to usually have a problem with taking things that don't belong to me-"

"Not taking," she corrected me with such solemnity I began to wonder if this movie had been good for her, "borrowing. Borrowing without permission. But," her eyes danced, "with every intent to return."

Then she took hold of my hand.

"Come on. I bet we find some really nice clothes down near the blacksmith's shop."

And, as if her ulterior motive weren't as plain as the day that was fast turning into a scorcher, I allowed her to lead me through the throngs of people, away from the almost-Commodore's hideously dull ceremony and towards the trade section of town. That part of Port Royal where toiled and dwelt the man who had been the object of Ginny's obsession since almost the moment she first heard the name Orlando Bloom.

000

000

All right, I know, I know . . . crazy. I am. I've never made any pretensions to the contrary . . . I just sometimes wish I were a little less so. But in any case, it's been started, so . . . I guess I'll have to follow through. As if Ginny would let me do otherwise anyway . . .


	2. A Captain and a blacksmith

Well, I'm back . . . if you want to run the other way, feel free to do so. There's still time. I think. But now that I've started- well, so sue me, I just have to keep on going!

Actually, please don't sue me- I own next to nothing (that includes, of course, the movie) and I somehow have to use that nothingness to pay my University tuition. Fun, right? No, not really . . . but I am having fun with this fic. So even if you do realise how utterly beyond help I am, please don't spoil it all for me by telling me . . . please . . . pretty please?

000

000

So, we found our clothes, anyway. I was loathe to take them, but I was even more loathe to continue walking about showing my legs to men who probably thought I was no better than I ought to be for doing so, and so the clothesline of a really lovely home became our hunting grounds. From it we procured for ourselves two rather fine-looking gowns that were probably washed more often than many of the inhabitants of Port Royal themselves, and behind a bush, as best we could, we effected our transformation.

"It has just got to be on backwards," Ginny gasped, as I struggled to help her button it up and yet still refrain from bursting any seams. "Really. They can't . . . these women can't voluntarily do this sort of thing to themselves . . . they just can't."

They could and, apparently, they did. I ended up having to sneak back towards the washing house and locate a pair of corsets to help us force ourselves to fit the confines of the outfits we had so blithely "borrowed", and even with them, the gowns were something of a squeeze.

"Still," I reflected, as we took tiny, mincing steps toward the road, hoping nobody would see the sandals we were wearing underneath, "they do take about ten pounds off, easily . . ."

"I'd settle for ten pounds and easy use of my lungs," Ginny squeaked, but then fell silent, since walking requires a certain amount of ready oxygen, and the dresses seemed loathe to permit us much of any at all.

In this fashion we staggered into town, where Ginny promptly set about asking where the blacksmith's shop was. I, acutely aware that our bare heads and undressed hair were drawing us puzzled looks from those around us, tried to sink into the shadows and become invisible.

It was in this manner that I managed to actually get myself separated from Ginny. One minute she was there, asking a pair of sailors where William Turner worked, and the next I was around a corner in a quiet side street, totally unable to figure out from which way I had even entered the blasted thing.

I did, however, see the familiar wooden sign hanging above the doorway, the hammer and anvil drawing a little gasp of relief to my lips. I pushed the door open and went inside.

There I saw a donkey standing placidly, obviously having not an inkling of what was in store for him later in the day, and the infamous Mr. Brown dozing away peacefully in a chair. I smiled, but then frowned as the smell of entirely too much alcohol met my nostrils. Gagging, I backed quickly out of the shop and headed blindly for one end of the street. Once I got there, the ocean was so temptingly within reach that I continued down farther, until I had almost reached the docks.

The scenery I came upon there was not familiar in the conventional sense of the word, but rather, I felt that recognized it as the backdrop from one scene or other. As I racked my brains, trying to remember why I was supposed to know where I was, a holler of utter horror took my task from me.

"Elizabeth!"

It was the terrified bellow of a man whose proposal has just been dashed to pieces on the rocks that very nearly claimed the object of it as well. I swung my head to the right, and sure enough, some several hundred yards in the distance and about as many above sea level, the newly official Commodore Norrington was being prevented from pitching himself off the parapet in pursuit of a woman who would have turned him down anyway.

My gaze swiveled seaward with an air of expectancy, and sure enough I was just in time to see none other than Captain Jack Sparrow himself go plunging into the waters after the unfortunate young woman.

As I tugged at my own restrictive garments, thinking how nice a quick dip in the ocean would feel right about now, a sudden cool breeze came rushing in off the waters, and an ominous, muffled boom sounded from somewhere below them. I felt myself shiver despite the relief brought on by the sudden lack of sun, and it was at this point that I heard Ginny shout my name. I turned to see her come pounding down toward where I stood on the end of the dock and beckoned to her impatiently, pointing out what was happening some distance away.

"You found them!" she crowed, delighted. "Oh, hey, let's go over and get a better look!"

"I hardly think I want a better look at any of that," I complained. "We'd probably get trampled, or a bullet put in us or something. Besides, he'll be running right past us, you see?" I pointed to the dock that stretched out before us. "He'll be running up along here, and come right by us as he does. I'm sure we couldn't ask for a better view than that."

Ginny, it turned out, could have, but settled for a heavy pout and crossing her arms across her chest- an action she immediately clearly regretted, since it strained the bodice of her gown almost beyond the breaking point.

"We really should do something about our hair," I reflected, watching as Jack hauled a sodden and indecently garbed Elizabeth onto the docks and promptly ripped the offending corset clean off her torso. Her resulting gasp of relief, though inaudible, was quite visible even from where we stood, and it was one I envied her greatly, rubbing as I was at my own unnaturally cinched waist.

"What about our hair?" Ginny wanted to know, leaning forward to get a better view of the soldiers who were rushing the would-be rescuer.

"We should put it up, or something . . . bad enough we haven't got hats, but with our hair falling all over our shoulders, we might as well have not bothered with the dresses anyway."

"Well, you put your hair up, then. I'm going to watch this," Ginny said with such finality that I let the matter drop, and watched with a curious – or perhaps not so curious – feeling of deja vu as Jack, his hands newly manacled, spun to seize Elizabeth, who really hadn't asked for such brutal treatment at all.

We could almost make out his words as he requested his "effects" back, and there was no mistaking the contempt in Elizabeth's face as she complied with his demand to dress him in them, even from the angle at which we stood. Then he backed up with her until he reached the point where he was able to thrust her at the men who were trying to arrest him, and the next thing we knew, he was shooting up onto his own little merry-go-round of sorts. He swung about for a bit, then dropped, and headed for the end of the dock- right where we were standing.

"He's mine!" Ginny warned, and I rolled my eyes.

"Given his likely bathing habits, you'll get no argument from me. Just don't get- gah! SHOT!"

I grabbed her by the arm and pushed her back, away from the docks toward the road as musket fire erupted behind us, the soldiers vainly attempting to land a shot on their escaping target. He came abreast of us just as my sandals caught in the hem of Ginny's dress, and we both went tumbling to the ground where we lay crumpled together in a rather dusty heap, our hair no longer the most pressing of our concerns. He stopped short, surprised, and gave us a rather startled glance, so much as if to ask where we had come from.

"Why don't you try the blacksmith's shop?" Ginny blurted, earning an even more startled look from the pirate.

"The- what, love?"

"The blacksmith's shop," she repeated somewhat irritably, pointing up at his hands. "You want to get those off, don't you? Well, he'd have the tools to do it, don't you think?"

Jack arched a wary eyebrow.

"Ye-es . . . I suppose so, but . . . why would you tell me that? Aren't you- well- that is to say, love, don't I make you-"

"She's not afraid of pirates," I broke in, before Ginny could take the time to tell him exactly what it was he made her. I didn't think I could stand the indignity of bearing witness to her profession of undying lust on top of everything that had happened already. "She wants to be one. But that's just Ginny. You had better get going if you don't want them to catch you."

To further accentuate my point, more musket fire sounded, this time much closer. Jack doffed that ridiculous hat agreeably in, I suppose, some manner of thanks, and then took off to the heart of town. Ginny, watching him as he went, was breathing rather shallowly, and not, I suspect, just from the corsets.

"Can we go and watch him fight Will?" she asked hopefully, and I gave her a look of horror.

"Ginny! No! We'd probably end up getting skewered!"

Ginny pouted, but then looked up quickly as a tide of redcoats bore down upon us.

"Pardon, ladies," the one in front – Gillette, I think his name was. That annoying fellow who would lock Elizabeth in the cabin _of The Dauntless_ with some insulting remark about a mermaid – asked breathlessly, "but have you seen a pirate go by here?"

"A pirate?" I opened my eyes wide. "Why- no, I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's only that you look a little . . . put upon," he said, gesturing at our dusty skirts and unkempt hair as we struggled to our feet. I seized the opportunity as it presented itself.

"Are you insinuating that my friend and I appear unkempt?" I gasped, horror and indignation seeping into every tone as I started to get into the part. "My good man, I hardly know what to say! Indeed, I find myself bereft of the words that would sufficiently express the depth of my mortification!" (Nothing wrong with having a large vocabulary, I decided. After all, you just never know when you might get sucked into a movie set in the eighteenth century, and have to convince the people therein that you actually do belong there, even though you really don't)

Meanwhile, confronted with uncertain-looking soldiers who were challenging my word and very nearly insulting my – admittedly bedraggled – appearance, I tossed my head, painfully aware though the action made me of the state of my hair, and huffed rather indignantly,

"The- the _nerve_!"

Then I turned my back on him, for fear I would burst out laughing at any moment. The fellow made apologies as the soldiers rushed on, and I turned around just in time to see the Governor shepherding a wet and bedraggled Elizabeth towards a waiting carriage. It looked awfully inviting, but of course you can't just go hopping into peoples' carriages, so I restrained myself and instead tried to do something about my hair.

I couldn't do much, but the very attempt made me feel a bit better, and as a result capable of heading back to town. We had wandered around for just a little while, however, and had stepped in a few nasty things that defied description, when Ginny let out a yelp at the sight of soldiers entering what she insisted on calling Will's shop. I had only a moment to debate if I felt equal to the task of hurrying after her, before I realised that if I didn't want to miss out on anything – and I didn't – I had better hike up my skirts and kick it into high gear.

We arrived just in time to see an unconscious Jack carted unceremoniously from the shop, causing Ginny to give a gusty sigh of utter heartbreak. It was less Jack I felt sorry for, though, than Will, who appeared in the doorway of the shop, covered in grime and looking rather lost.

"We saw the whole thing," I heard myself telling him, and earned myself a rather startled glance.

"I- I beg your pardon?" he stammered, and I blushed, and shrugged.

"The whole thing," I repeated. "How it was really you who caught him, not that drunk over in the corner."

"My master," Will murmured automatically, and I nodded.

"Sure. Him. The one who takes the credit for the swords you make. Anyway, we saw what happened, and all, and so- well, I'm awfully sorry, anyway, I guess."

He gave me an uncertain glance, as if seeing me for the first time.

"Do I . . . know you, Miss?"

"No," I shook my head. "We're new around here. But we saw it, anyway. I'm sorry."

He shook his head.

"It really only matters that he was caught," he murmured, as if trying to convince himself of the fact. "He- he did something . . . unspeakably awful. He had to be caught. Who gets the credit . . . that doesn't matter."

"But you probably think that it might matter to her," I pointed out, "and so naturally it would matter to you as a result."

He gave me a startled look.

"I- I beg your pardon, Miss?"

I grinned.

"Will – can I call you Will? – we've been on our feet in this heat for a good portion of the morning . . . how about you invite us inside? Then we can have a talk."

And Will, who really looked as if he couldn't think of anything else to do, nodded, stepped aside, and waved us in.

You gotta love those eighteenth century men.

000

000

Two down, Heaven knows how many more to go . . . I guess I might as well finish the bloody movie off, but I'll try not to drag it out too long. No promises, though. I tend to ramble. I will, however, do my best . . .


	3. A chat with the blacksmith

Yes, me again, and I have for your reading bewilderment yet another chapter in the mixed up annals of this bizarre fic. I still am not sure where it's headed, but . . . oh, well. It's a way to take the creative edge off, if nothing else.

It's also a way to babble on incoherently about how I do not – repeat, I do not – own the movie or any of the characters found therein. I own me, and Ginny owns herself, but otherwise . . . nope. Nothing.

000

000

The shop was now appropriately tossed about inside as a result of Will's scuffle with Captain Jack Sparrow. I gave the general chaos an approving nod as I settled onto about the only stool that hadn't been overturned, and tried to further my attempts at making my hair behave. My hair was, unfortunately, being as unruly as ever, but at least it gave me something with which to occupy myself while Will started to tidy up shop and Ginny gawked openly at Will. Finally I managed to twist it into something of a knot, which made me feel about five hundred percent more presentable, and even human enough to take a closer look around me.

If this was a dream we were having, it was an amazingly authentic one. The colors were rich and vibrant, the heat from Will's blacksmith forge almost tangible, and the smells from that and, of course, the donkey were sharp and realistic. The floor was dirt, and I could feel the grit between my teeth and in my eyes as it attempted to settle after having been so violently stirred up. Ginny, though, was apparently less interested in settling than she was in doing some stirring up. She was busy following Will around, chattering away about something or other. It took me a minute to realise that the topic of their conversation was actually Jack- which might have explained the fearsome scowl on Will's face.

"He's a pirate," he stormed, bending to right a small table.

"But a good man!" Ginny was quick to point out, hiking up her abundance of skirts without ceremony and hopping over the table to follow him. "Why do you hate pirates so much anyway? They never really explained that to us."

"Who didn't?" Will wondered, and Ginny shrugged.

"Oh, nobody. But they didn't. So do you mind telling me?"

"Because they're murderers, liars, cheaters and thieves!" he declared with ambiguous fervor.

"Well, so are murderers, liars, cheaters and thieves," Ginny frowned. "But I don't see you running around trying to stick swords into any of them."

"They don't all dress the part, you know," I pointed out from where I sat, and she shot me an angry glare.

"Hey now, An, whose side are you on, anyway!"

"I'm not on anybody's _side,_ per se," I scowled, trying to untangle my own skirts from around my legs. "I just . . . well, he's a criminal in the technical sense of the word, after all."

"There," Will said triumphantly, "you see!"

"Oh, hush, you," I frowned at him. "You won't be so high and mighty by the time that all's been said and done yourself, you know."

And he didn't, of course. But I had to say it anyway, even if it did confuse him something awful- as it obviously did.

"Besides," I shrugged, finally arranging my abundance of clothing – how _did_ those women do it, anyway? Especially in the summer time! – to my more or less comfort, "we've all done stuff we shouldn't have. I just- well, I guess his crimes were likely a little more violent than some peoples' were. And overt. Very overt crime, piracy." Then I settled back against the wall, trying not to think about how filthy it – everything – likely was. And I hadn't even had my tetanus shot.

"So what's our game plan?" I asked Ginny curiously. "You just want to stay here and talk until the whole mess starts? Or do you want to look around a bit?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed in comprehension. "You just want to get into the Governor's house!" she accused, and I made a face.

"Well, what if I do? Is it so wrong of me to want a decent cup of tea? And I'm sure they'd have one up there. Or lemonade, or even cold water of a sort. Because it's boiling here. But there's no point in me wanting it anyway," I concluded, "because even in these clothes, I'm sure we'd never get within a mile of the place."

Ginny was surprised, and maybe a little indignant.

"Why not?"

"Well, firstly there's our accents. They'd notice those right away. Secondly, the dresses were nice enough when we first found them, sure, but they're rather dusty now, and . . . well, we're in a time period when clothes alone do not a lady make. Clothes, hair, hat and shoes a lady make, Ginny. And accent. Accent's a biggie. And we have only one out of five. So . . . don't get your hopes up."

"Well, I wasn't," she pointed out fairly. "That was just you, being . . . you. You know, prissy. But now I don't think that's very nice of them. I want to try anyway."

I rolled my eyes.

"Go ahead. Let me know how it turns out. I'd just as soon as spare myself the humiliation, if it's all the same to you. I'm _prissy_ like that. I'll wait here with Will. I always wanted to see how he made those things, anyway," I added, pointing to one of the swords. Will looked pleased in spite of himself.

"You're interested in my craft?" he asked hopefully, and I nodded.

"I think they're just beautiful. Couldn't touch one myself, of course, or I'd cut my own foot off, but . . . could you show me how you make them?"

He looked rather cute, puffed up as he was, and could hardly wait to take the half-finished sword with which he had been belaboring Jack so recently and show me how he shaped it into a weapon such as the one now belted to the waist of the Commodore. Ginny watched as well, but I could tell she was slightly less interested. Still, I hardly thought anything of it when she murmured to me that she was going to take a little walk to stretch her legs. Only after Will had plunged the finished product into a vat of water, and steam rolled out in hissing billows, did it occur to me that Ginny had yet to return. When I realised this, I couldn't contain a groan of utter dismay.

"She's gone to see Jack," I fumed, "I just know it."

"The pirate?" you could almost see Will's hackles rise, and I arched an eyebrow in spite of myself.

"Down, boy," I drawled. "Yes, the pirate. You, um . . . you've got issues there, you know that?"

He looked at me, bewildered. "Issues?"

I nodded.

"Yeah. Problems that you have to resolve if you hope to get anywhere in life. Especially a life like yours," I added, thinking of everything that was going to happen to him just that night and the following day or so. "Believe me. Sorting those out will make things much easier for you. But then," I shrugged, "none of my business. Just think about it. And . . . I don't suppose you have any drinkable water around here, do you?"

As it turned out, he did, of a sort. There was, he informed me, a pump out back, and I availed myself of it. The water was surprisingly cold, and refreshing as a result, and almost certainly not riddled with typhus, although I knew I couldn't count on that. Once I had thoroughly sated my thirst and splashed my face, I began to realise that the sun not only made me hot and sweaty, it made me sleepy as well. I made my way back into Will's shop and headed for the stool I had been occupying, barely able to smother a monstrous yawn.

"Look," I sighed, settling back onto the hard wooden contraption as if it were fashioned from velvet and eiderdown, "would you mind letting me know when my friend comes back?"

Will looked surprised, but shook his head all the same.

"Good," I sighed. "Glad to hear it. Because friend or not, I'm beat, and there's no way I'm waiting up for her. I know all too well how long she's likely to be, so . . . yeah. Wake me when she gets back, or when the cannons start to fire. Whichever comes first."

Then I settle down a bit deeper into my makeshift bed, and my eyes are closed before I can even hear, much less provide an answer for, Will's started repetition.

"Cannons?"

000

000


	4. A chat with the Captain

Well, I'm still here. Don't act too disappointed, please . . . I know it's a rather weird story, but then, I never claimed to be a normal person. If I did, my friends would call me on it in a heartbeat, hehe.

Anyway, I certainly can't claim to own the movie, or to be the creator of any characters within this story. My parents and Ginny's can claim that questionable distinction . . . or they can opt not to. Either one is plausible.

000

000

It was the cannons themselves that woke me up, as it turned out. I might, I suppose, have predicted that would happen. That it would take cannons to wake me, I mean. I am an incredibly heavy sleeper. There was this one time at my riding camp that my friend wanted to wake me up, but couldn't, so she got really impatient and . . . uh . . . never mind. That's not really relevant anyway.

What is relevant is that I awoke to the sound of thunderous cannon fire, and found myself completely alone in the little blacksmith's shop. The air had cooled down considerably, as it does at night when you're by the ocean, and I found that the glowing coals that remained in the brazier were not quite enough to heat me. Beating my palms together to generate a little circulation, I got to my feet and went to the window, peeking out just in time to see people go stampeding past, shrieking in terror.

So the pirates were here. And Will, judging by the empty shop, had already gone out in search of them.

I tired to think of some place that they hadn't touched in the movie – and would therefore be safe for me to be – and came up depressingly short. Even the blacksmith's shop, if memory served me correctly, did not escape being burned, or at least vandalized, or something of the sort. I frowned, having no great predisposition to be in the shop when the fire or vandals – or maybe even both – arrived, and decided I could take a little walk. I decided, in fact, that I probably should. Only . . . to where?

It was a surprisingly difficult problem. Finally I figured that heading just about anywhere had got to be better than just standing around like an idiot, so I gave my hair one quick, reflective pat, and then started out into the general mayhem that filled the narrow streets of Port Royal.

It wasn't long at all before I came across a rather nasty-looking bunch of pirates, their arms overflowing with valuables, and common sense drove me to duck into the nearest alleyway until they had passed. I heard glass breaking in abundance not too far away when I emerged, and began to wonder if there was some way I could get my money back at the end of all this- provided, of course, that I lived through all of it.

If I did, I decided, the first thing I would do – even before I demanded a refund – would be to strangle Ginny.

If only I had the sweetest clue how to reach her. Because I knew where she was, of course- she was probably trying to help Jack jimmy open his cell door so he could escort her to Ye Olde Pizzeria, or wherever. But I hadn't the faintest vestige of an idea where the jail cell was.

The Governor's house, though- that was an easy one. It was situated in plain sight at the top of a hill some distance away, and already I could see a group of scruffy less-than-gentlemen heading off in that direction. I knew what would happen next – didn't we all? – and I figured that familiarity, at least, might offer me some semblance of protection. So I hiked up those annoying skirts and headed that way too.

000

Ginny, in the meantime, had apparently been having a lovely chat with none other than Captain Jack Sparrow. She claimed he was lonely, and that it was an errand of mercy. I claim that Ginny just wanted to chat with Captain Jack Sparrow. But she's bigger than I am, so I don't claim it to her face.

I don't doubt, though, that mostly everything else she told me is true. I'm sure it really did take her twenty-five minutes to locate the prison, because I know Ginny would take twice that long – maybe even longer – to look for it, if it meant that she would get to talk with Jack.

I'm also sure that when she was escorted down to the cells, and saw him lying there on the stone floor and the thin layer of dirty straw, she really did start yelling at the guards about humane treatment of prisoners and the Civil Rights Association. And I'm sure that the guards really did threaten to remove her if she didn't quiet down.

And with such a threat looming over her, I am quite certain that she obeyed, and headed over to the cell to talk to Jack just as meek as you please.

She told me that the first time she said his name he didn't look up, but the second time she remembered to address him as Captain, at which point he peeked out from under his hat, and arched one grimy black eyebrow in mild surprise.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the little lass with the bright ideas. That blacksmith stunt appears to have cost me all I hold dear from the neck up . . . I don't suppose you've come to make your apologies, or something of the like, now, have you?"

Ginny was indignant, of course. Ginny would be.

"That wasn't _my_ fault!" she yelped. "You'd have gone there anyway, with or without my advice."

Jack's eyebrow remained aloft. "Aye? And how do you figure that, missy?"

"I just know it," she glowered. "Trust me on this one, Jack Sparrow. I just know it."

He sighed the sigh of a martyred man.

"Captain."

Ginny blinked.

"Sorry?"

"Captain, love. _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. And yes," he added, the very model of injured dignity, "you should be."

Ginny sighed.

"Fine. Trust me, your captainness, when I tell you that I know an awful lot more about you than you realize. I even know things that you don't."

He smiled, settling back onto the floor. "Oh, lass? And how is that, then?"

Ginny shrugged.

"You'd never believe me. But anyway. It's going to be a while yet before the rest of the pirates show up, so I thought I'd just come and keep you company until then."

"Well, that's very kind of you, I'm sure. I'm much obliged. Now, if you'd just keep quiet then, like a good lass, I'll be able to catch meself some shut eye before I start to worry about where I'm headed as of dawn tomorrow morning."

There are many things Ginny does well, but 'quiet' is not one of them. She shook her head impatiently.

"Well, you aren't going to hang, so forget worrying about it. If I were you, I'd be more worried about the holes they're going to be blowing in the wall of this jail tonight. And the ones they're going to be blowing in your ship in a day or so."

Jack's hat was lifted once more, and he peeked out from under it with mild suspicion.

"Right. Cute."

Then he returned to the dim solitude of his rather battered piece of haberdashery for some hours to come. Ginny had no problem whatsoever with settling down outside of the cell and watching him – actually, I think he might have been disturbed had he known just how little problem she had with sitting down and watching him – and it was this that she was still doing when night fell, and the sound of the not-as-distant-as-they-should-be-for-safety-purposes cannons could be heard.

Jack's eyes flew open. "I know those cannons," he observed, surprised, and was on his feet in an instant, gaping out of the barred window. "It's the Pearl," he breathed.

"The Black Pearl?" at once the prisoners in the other cell rushed to hang off of the bars, and listen with rapt attention as one spoke dolefully.

"I've heard stories. She's been preying on ships and settlements for near ten years. Never leaves any survivors."

Jack shot the fellow a rather amused glance. "No survivors? Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?"

This, of course, stumped the other fellows. While they pondered it, it at last dawned on Jack just what, exactly, was going on out there. He registered the fact with obvious shock, and then slowly turned his head over his shoulder so he could gape at my admittedly smug friend.

"Just who are you, anyway, lass?" he wondered, and Ginny grinned, pleased.

"I thought you'd never ask."

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It seems to be hanging in there . . . I don't know whether to be pleased or dismayed about that. It seems like I am drawing a lot more heavily on the script itself than I had initially planned, and I don't know how I feel about that, either. Certainly not very proud or accomplished. While I debate these matters – and continue to write – how about you let me know your thoughts on the matter? I'm curious. In the meantime, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to those who have already done so.


	5. Are you being burgled?

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, but everything has just been crazy here. The story, however, still seems to want to be created . . . or more accurately, Ginny wants it to be created, and she's made that quite plain, and Ginny's got four brothers, and I haven't got any, so she's very qualified to intimidate me. Anyhow, not much wrong with that, I guess, because I really love this movie – even though, you will please note, I do not in any way, shape or form lay claim to having had any part in the creation of it – and I'm enjoying going back over it bit by bit, as it were. It's going to take me a bit to get updates more regular again, since University is taking some getting used to, but thanks to all of your wonderful comments - and the tone of Ginny's voice - I am determined to push myself to get used to it as soon as I can!

I hope I'm not torturing you or anything with this story, but in the off chance I am . . . why are you still reading it? Is it like a train wreck? You just can't look away? I can respect that, actually . . . anyway, to all the rest of you who are actually, for some strange reason, amused by this – or maybe, and more likely, you're just wondering if I'm actually crazy enough to see it through to the end – thank you so much for your support. I am . . . well, quite frankly I'm astonished, but that doesn't mean I love you any less. Please, keep it up!

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While Ginny was busy introducing herself to Captain Jack Sparrow and his admirable hat, I was struggling to make it to the Governor's mansion before all the fun was over. It was tricky in the outfit I was wearing, but at least I had my own shoes on. If I'd been wearing some of those ridiculous buckled creations, I'd likely have slipped and cracked my head open on the cobbles before I even reached the end of the street.

The dress and corset, though, made it tricky enough so that by the time I made it to the mansion, the pirates had already put a bullet through the butler and were well on their way to looting the place. I stopped in the wide-open doorway, wishing I had time to properly admire the masterful craftsmanship that was so evident in every delicately wrought filigree ornament adorning the sumptuous old home. They just don't make them like that anymore.

Then I was rudely interrupted in my breathless perusal of the gorgeous artwork by the sudden appearance of Elizabeth and two pirates – Pintel and Ragetti, if memory, and the cast list, served me correctly – to the left of the lovely old staircase. She was struggling for all she was worth, but at the sight of me, all three of them stopped dead in confusion. I managed a weak smile.

"Evening, Miss Swann . . . gentlemen . . ."

"Who's she?" Pintel stammered, and Elizabeth replied, with perfect truthfulness,

"I have no idea."

"I just happened to be . . . um . . . passing by the house, is all," I ventured. "I saw the door was open. I was worried you were being burgled."

Ragetti offered me a smile. "Oh, no, we're not being burgled, thank you."

Pintel shot him a look that could have curdled milk. Ragetti, catching it, was surprised.

"What!"

"You idiot- we ARE burgling!"

"Well, yes- but we're not being burgled, you know? So it was tellin' 'er the truth."

Pintel let out a muted bellow.

"We're pirates! Who's bloody going to care if we're telling the truth or not!"

Ragetti blinked owlishly, his fake eye rolling ghoulishly about in his head. "Oh. Good point."

He looked over to me, and wondered, "so what do we do with her?"

I didn't much like the sick smirk that crossed Pintel's face as he reached for his sword, so as quickly as I could form the word, I blurted out,

"Parley!"

He stopped, gaping at me in shock.

"Wha-?"

"Parley," I repeated, perfecting a slight nuance in my pronunciation as I did (the actors in the film had all appeared to universally adopt a French accent in pronouncing the word, so I did as well. I've always prided myself on my French. I'm not much good in the Sciences or Math, but in English and French I do pretty well, so I like to keep up practice whenever I can). "I . . ." I struggled to remember Elizabeth's exact words, and not just the accent in which she had said the crucial one. "I invoke the right of parley."

"You, too!" Pintel was frankly disbelieving. "What is this, a bloody quilting bee? I can't believe it! Well, that's it! No more parleys! Not after this one!"

I heaved a sigh of relief as they came over towards me, and shoved me in between them, beside Elizabeth. As we were hustled out into the night, Elizabeth shot me a bewildered glance.

"Who are you?"

I shrugged. "Andrea. But you can call me An. Or Andi. But you'd probably think that's a boy's name, so An will work out best, I guess."

Elizabeth looked hesitant. "I . . . all right. I'm-"

"Elizabeth Swann, I know," I nodded, and was startled at the look of abject horror that swept across her face when I said it.

"You know who I am?" she whispered, and I nodded uncertainly. Was it such a shock? She was the Governor's daughter, and that, as far as I knew, was a rather public position in the eighteenth century.

"Yes . . ?"

"Please," she gasped, "I beg of you, don't tell them. If they were to know . . . to know who my father is . . ."

I sighed. Little did she know that she was going to get in a lot more trouble because of who they would think her father was than she ever would have had they only known the truth. But I wasn't about to foul up the plot now, so I just nodded, and promised to keep quiet about it. Elizabeth heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she breathed, and then, turning her head to smile at me, happened to catch sight of something over my shoulder- or rather, someone. "Will!" she gasped, then screamed, "Will!"

I turned my head as well - awkward though the action was, seeing as Ragetti's shoulder was right by my cheek, and made turning in general a difficult task - and saw poor Will looking quite dumbstruck at the sight of Elizabeth being carted off by pirates. I didn't care to delusion myself that he cared about me- I highly doubted he had even noticed I was there, what with Elizabeth being present.

I know how men are.

Indeed, just as it had been in the movie the first time around – and the second, for that matter, as well as the third, fourth and . . . well . . . you know – his lips formed her name only and I could almost hear the heart-stricken gasp as he spoke it. Then, of course, some fellow came along and rudely clobbered him on the back of the head, and the last we saw of him, he was dropping like a felled tree to the ground, leaving us to kick and squirm our helpless way along to the lifeboats.

Sometimes, I guess, those eighteenth century men aren't any more useful than the modern ones.

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That's it for this chapter, I guess. More to come soon enough, though, provided that things settle down a bit around here. Ginny is persistent, and truth be told, I am as well. I won't let myself stop this until it's done, I guess. I just have to figure out when that will be. I'd like to see it through to the end of the movie . . . it's almost as fun as watching it, you know. Writing it, I mean. Not quite as much, but nearly. And my own commentary in the fic is pretty much what I was thinking as I watched it, so it's really almost like I'm watching it all over again, which is nice . . .

Also nice is feedback. Receiving it, that is. I don't ask for much, cause I really don't think that this is any example of fine literature – or anything even remotely close to it – but I do like to know that I'm being read. To all those of you who've let me know I am, a heartfelt thanks. You are very sweet to put up with my ramblings and me. I love you all muchly. Please keep coming back!


	6. Calling on the Captain

I'm so glad you're enjoying this! I mean, I'm having a blast here, but to know that people are actually reading it and finding it amusing, if not entertaining in the purest, more respectable form of the word, is incredibly gratifying. Also a little confusing, but let's not pull too much at _that_ thread, okay? I also want to make it abundantly clear that I am in no way making any money off of this absurd little piece of fluff, and that I am in no way, shape or form connected to Disney, who owns each and every right to the movie I have chosen to thrust myself and my friend into (wave, Ginny! You're in fanfiction!)

Now, I'm going to keep on writing this because it's Ginny's very belated birthday gift, and I owe it to her, and I always make good my debts. So it'll keep on being posted regardless. But still, it's so wonderful to hear that people are actually finding it fun to read, so if you get a minute, won't you please tell me if you are? Thank you ever so much! Now if you want, enjoy! (and if you don't want to enjoy it, why are you here to begin with?)

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As I was being so ignominiously hauled off with Elizabeth like a sack of potatoes, Ginny was in the prison with (Captain) Jack Sparrow, his hat, a dog, and some grubby men who would never see the gallows. She was craning her neck to get a better look out the window when it occurred to her that, if a hole was about to be blown into the wall of the prison, she might very well want to get herself out of the way when it did.

So she dove to the side, landing in a confusing tangle of skirts just as the aforementioned hole was so violently brought into being. She uncovered her head and looked up in time to see the prisoners head for their new-found freedom . . . all of them except for Jack, of course, who had been allotted only the smallest of holes in his own wall- barely enough to count as a new window, much less a prospective portal.

"My sympathies, friend," a particularly scrawny one offered, pausing briefly on his flight through the wall to liberty. "You've no manner of luck at all."

Then they were gone, and Ginny bobbed her head agreeably. "Not yet you don't, anyway. But that'll change soon enough."

Jack turned from his dejected perusal of the tiny hole in his own side to arch an eyebrow at her.

"Oh? Is that so, love? Well, you've been right insofar . . . why not let old Jack in on the little secret? At what point, exactly, am I to expect me luck to be changing?"

Ginny shrugged. "Well, that would be giving away the plot, now, wouldn't it? And I don't like to do that. An nearly had to beat it out of me before I'd tell her anything . . . but just trust me. It'll change. Only . . . not now."

Jack sighed.

"Is that a fact."

Ginny bobbed her head. "It is. In fact-" she broke off suddenly as there could be heard from above them both the sound of somebody being unceremoniously killed. Shortly thereafter, said unfortunate arrived in an ungainly heap at the bottom of the stairs and was closely followed by two considerably more upright fellows, though both looked as if they could have done with a good bath and barber.

"This ain't the armoury!" one protested, and then the pair's eyes lit on Jack, where he was lounging against the cell bars, and Ginny, where she stood in front of him.

"Well, well, well," the darker one sneered, moving forward, "what have we here?"

"Lass," Jack observed casually, shifting posture ever so slightly, "if I were you, I do believe I'd be running along now, there's a good girl."

Ginny was indignant. "Run along? I will not! As if I were a child, or some stupid little-"

"Got spirit, she has," the shorter one observed with a sick smile, and Ginny gulped.

"I'm going. No, scratch that. I'm gone." Then she bolted into the depths of the prison, leaving the pirate pair to address their former captain.

So intent on their conversation did they become that Ginny was able to double back and crouch just around the corner as she listened to the familiar exchange. The dialogue wore on between the three as it had done each time she had paid to see it happen before, and she could clearly envision the scene in her head just by hearing it.

Once both pirates had finally left the prison, leaving Jack alone in the cell, Ginny reappeared, earning a look of – could it actually be relief? – from the grimy personage.

"Ah, there you be, lass. I was beginning to wonder. Sorry about that . . . just some old shipmates of mine who had a . . . bone to pick with me."

Ginny grinned. I would have groaned, but Ginny's tastes run more to the punny than do mine, and for that reason she always did appreciate a corny word play much better than I did.

"So, now," Jack went on, "I don't suppose you could be telling me, could you, lass, if this be the part where me fortunes change?" he wondered, and she shook her head.

"No, not yet. Look, I can't tell you this sort of stuff- it'll take away the surprise! And there are a lot of surprises in this, if you haven't seen it before . . . and you haven't. But I have. Which is weird, cause I saw you seeing it, and here you are, not having seen it before. But- um- yeah. Anyway. It's safe here for the rest of the night, I know, but out there I'm not so sure about, so . . . I think I might just curl up around here somewhere, you know? Just . . . just to be on the safe side, and all."

Jack gave her a rather knowing smirk, but then shrugged, as if he could hardly be expected to be bothered with such a trivial detail as company for the night. "Aye, suit yourself, lass. Just don't be bothering me with a lot of talk. I needs me beauty sleep."

Ginny smiled to herself as she settled down on the floor as best she could, finding that her skirts, though they were bothersome when one was attempting perambulation, actually provided quite ample cushioning against the otherwise unyielding floors.

The last thing she heard before she drifted off to sleep were Jack's wheedling tones.

"Here, boy, come on, now . . . what a nice dog . . . that's a good doggie, now, come and see old Jack . . . good doggie. What a lovely dog you are . . ."

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Well, Ginny, you had better still be reading this . . . I must say, you're quite a fun character to write. I appreciate your input, though, on what you'd be likely to say to him, because frankly, I had no idea what I could write here that would be both realistic and in keeping with the rating. Not to mention my principles.

But a huge hug and thank you to you for helping and reviewing, as well as to everybody else who has been so amazingly sweet as to review. I know this is . . . eh . . . not exactly what you'd call quality. Or at least, not what _I'd_ call quality. But it's a way for me to keep a promise to my friend, as well as get in a little practice with my phrasing and such as well, so as that, it's serving a rather formidable purpose, and your appreciation of it is greatly . . . eh . . . appreciated. So thank you all so very much!


	7. Grammar lessons and a Caribbean cruise

My fingers are crying for me to stop . . . but I'm enjoying myself too much to do so! I hope I'm not subjecting you to anything cruel or unusual . . . actually, I know I am, this fic is pretty unpleasantly unoriginal, but when it comes to actually _reading_ the thing, I didn't actually _make_ you, right? So I guess I can sleep easy, then. That's a relief.

Well, before I sleep easy, I had better tell you that I do not own this movie, or any of the characters in it. Neither am I making any money off of this thing – did you honestly think I was? – so just forget about the lawsuits. I have nothing worth taking, unless you really want my University admission letter, or my fish, who bites (literally. He's vicious) or my dogs, who barely even listen to me, much less anybody else. That's about all I have. Still interested in a lawsuit? Yeah, that's what I thought.

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The _Black Pearl_ may have looked rather eerie from my seat in the movie theatre, but let me tell you, that's nothing compared to what she looks like up close. That is one scary boat. Sorry- ship.

We were pushed aboard it with a minimum of courtesy, but I didn't have time to notice anyway because I was too busy trying to make sure I didn't trip on my own skirt and go headlong into the ocean. I may be a decent swimmer under normal circumstances, but I doubted I could do anything even vaguely resembling treading water with the get-up I was in, so I thought it best to just avoid the possibility of any such situation to begin with.

Having arrived more or less safely on deck, I concentrated on straightening myself out a bit while the Bos'un appeared and yelled at Pintel and Ragetti for bringing us along, and Pintel explained why they had, and Elizabeth opened her mouth and got backhanded for it. Then Captain Barbossa put in his appearance and gave the Bos'un the equivalent of a slap on the wrist as I straightened up and made my way to Elizabeth's side in time to hear her polysyllabic request for peace in Port Royal.

Captain Barbossa chuckled and feigned modesty regarding his vocabulary, which made me roll my eyes in disgust and speak up before Elizabeth could do so.

"She wants the lot of you to clear off, mate," I glared. "You savvy?"

Yes, I know I pretty well stole Jack's pet line, but that's because it's a good line, and it seemed to fit the mood, so I hope he will excuse me the impertinence.

Barbossa gave me a startled look, as if he was just noticing me for the first time, and then smiled, chuckled, and shook his garishly-hatted head from side to side.

"I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request." Then, seeing the faint hesitation on Elizabeth's face, he smirked, and mockingly explained, "means no."

"We know what it means," I bit off, even though I could really only speak for me and not Elizabeth, though had she been given time, I'm sure she could have figured it out too. But being grabbed from your home in the middle of the night by a bunch of boorish louts with little to no regard for personal hygiene is bound to ruffle anybody up, so I could understand her being a bit confused.

Elizabeth, however, recovered with admirable swiftness, reaching up to rip the gold medallion off of her neck and stride over to the side of the boat, where she dangled the unassuming little bauble over the edge.

"I'll drop it," she threatened grimly, and there could be not a reasonable doubt in any onlooker's mind that she meant every one of those three words. Barbossa tried to bluster his way out of needing it, but despite Elizabeth's slight confusion, she remained confident that this was something valuable she held, and to further her point, informed them that she had seen this very ship eight years before on the crossing from England.

Barbossa's eyes took on a look of keen interest.

"Did you, now," he purred, moving forward. He stopped as she quickly gathered the medallion into her hand once more, eyeing him warily when he queried, "you got a name, Missy?"

I could see the wheels turning in her head even as she gave it.

"Elizabeth . . . T-Turner. I'm a maid in the Governor's house."

Of course, the name she gave caused quite a stir amongst the assembled crew, and though she didn't know why – indeed, she seemed to not even notice – I felt myself cringe at the sight.

I knew why they were so intrigued, and wished I didn't.

"Turner," he purred, then turned to me, and wondered, "and you?"

I shrugged. "An's fine."

His eyes narrowed. "I beg to differ."

"Well, beg if you must," I frowned, "but it will be terribly detrimental to your dignity. I suggest letting the matter rest as it is. An is my name. That's fine with me, and if it isn't with you, you can take it up with my parents. It's the one they gave me. Or part of it, at least. But it's all you need to know." Then, in case he was harbouring any doubts, I added, "and I'm not a Turner, so you can just put that line of thought right out of your head, Mister. Or Captain, or whatever."

He nodded, then turned to Elizabeth and wondered, "and why would a maid be keeping company as high and mighty as this one is?"

I huffed my indignation. "Well, I like that! Are you implying that Miss – eh – Turner is no better than she ought to be? Or are you insinuating I am a snob? Neither one, Sir, is anything close to complimentary, or true."

Barbossa looked at me in incredulity. "You've got a bit of a mouth on you, don't you, lass?" he said at last, and I considered.

"Well, yes I guess I've got a bit of one," I admitted at last. "But that shouldn't bother you much, should you? I mean, for crying out loud you're a bloody pirate! And you have a monkey! Those things _never_ shut up!"

"And neither, I take it, do you?" he asked dryly, and I was glad that it was too dim for him to see the extent of my blush. Because if I were to be perfectly frank, I would have to admit that there are those times when people might almost be justified in saying that I don't. The less advisable it is for me to talk, the more likely I am to do so. Now, however, common sense had finally caught up with my tongue and tied it in a temporary knot, so I kept silent, and with a satisfied nod he turned back to address Elizabeth, wondering how she came by such a trinket. Her eyes narrowed.

"I didn't steal it, if that's what you mean," she said, and it was with great self-control that I resisted the urge to correct her. Because well intentioned or not in doing so, she had most definitely stolen it. But I kept my mouth closed, and the strain of doing so was so great that my eyes were probably crossing by the time Elizabeth realised they did not intend to take us back to shore, and went rushing after Barbossa to attempt to argue with him.

It didn't go at all well, though, and with his chuckle of "Welcome aboard the _Black Pearl_, missies," I found my arms seized in much the same fashion as Elizabeth's were, and we were together carted away belowdecks to be thrust without ceremony into a reasonably attractive cabin. Once there, I heaved a sigh and looked around.

"Well," I observed, "this is just ducky."

I glanced over at Elizabeth, who seemed to not know that it would be better for our morale to make the best of a nasty situation. I figured the least I could do was help out, so I pointed at the fogged-up glass panes set in the window, and wondered, "how about a game of Tic Tac Toe?"

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All right, I guess that does it for this chapter . . . more on its way, though, that I can guarantee you. In the interim, though, thanks so much to everybody who's been so sweet, and left me such wonderful reviews! I still can't believe you're actually finding this entertaining, but who am I to argue?

Thanks to everybody so much for all your warm words, and please, keep checking back for more!


	8. Getting up with the chickens

Wow! Reviews! I love reviews! Almost as much as Jack loves weddings, and rum, and his hat. Maybe just as much. Maybe even more. Which just goes to show you how very much I love reviews, now, doesn't it? But who wouldn't? You guys are so awesome to me- most of you are, anyway. Those of you who are, I can't thank you enough! I wish I had something to give you . . . I guess I could hand out my leftover collection of ticket stubs to see _Pirates of the Caribbean_, but that wouldn't do you much good. Oh, well. I'll think of something. It's just that, thanks to this lovely little post-secondary institution I'm attending, I've got a rather tight budget at the moment.

That fact, actually, should clue you in that I don't have any legal claim to this movie whatsoever. It's an absolutely brilliant film, but it's not in any way mine. Just this silly little thing is, and I've become rather fond of it, so please don't plagiarise it . . . ha, ha. As if you'd really try to pass off something so insane as your own. They'd put you in the nuthouse for writing something like this! That's why I have to do it very quietly, or else they'll take me away, and I won't be able to finish Ginny's birthday gift for her, and then she'd kill me! And that wouldn't be any fun! Not for me, anyway.

So I won't tell you where I'm hiding, but I will give you another chap! If you make it through alive, let me know!

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Ginny woke up rather early, for her. At first she couldn't figure out why, but then she supposed that the big, grey dog slobbering affectionately all over her face might have had something to do with it.

The big, grey dog also had breath bad enough to knock her out all over again if something wasn't done about it in a hurry, so Ginny was quick to sit up and take stock of her situation.

She had a very wrinkled dress, kinks in her neck and a tortuous bruise of considerable breadth forming on her hip. She was a little stiff in general, but other than that she felt remarkably well rested, for all that it appeared to only be daybreak- this was made perfectly clear by just a small glance at the gaping hole that still graced the wall of the cell next to Jack's.

Jack himself was still sound asleep, but there were a pair of redcoats standing nearby who were very much awake as they spoke together in hushed, concerned tones. Ginny rubbed her eyes, wiped the dog slobber off of her face and struggled to her feet. Alerted by the noise the soldiers spun around, bayonets at ready. Ginny gave them both an irritated glance.

"Oh, please. Do I look like I'm gonna do anything important? My hair's a mess, my dress is too and I feel like an elephant was sleeping on me, or something. All I want is a bathroom. Can you point me to one?"

One unspeakable indignity of an outhouse later, Ginny was stalking towards town to hunt down Will's unconscious form. It took her a while, but at last she spotted a flock of chickens converging on person who lay prostrate and unresponsive in the middle of the road. Ginny shuddered. She had always had issues with chickens unless they were in nugget form, and these ones were certainly a long way from that state.

Still . . . it was Will. She took a deep breath, gathered up her courage, and charged the chickens. They scattered every which way, much to her relief, and Will awoke with a start. He squinted up at her as if trying to figure out if there was any particular reason why a young woman so unkempt as Ginny should be standing over him, but apparently no reason came to him because he retained his baffled look as she reached down and offered a helping hand.

"Want to get up?" she wondered. "It's dirty down there."

He eyed her with bewilderment, but then nodded uncertainly, and rather than take advantage of her hand, heaved himself to his feet with an effort. Then his face cleared, and a panicked expression appeared on it.

"Elizabeth!" he gasped. Ginny arched an eyebrow.

"Actually, no. My name is Virginia. My friends call me Ginny. But because you called me Elizabeth, you may call me Miss Tingley."

He shook his head, panic forbidding manners to even consider putting in an appearance.

"They- they took her!" he rasped. "The pirates took-"

"Took Elizabeth, yes, I know. But it was still very rude of you to-" she broke off as he took off at a dead run.

"Will!" she yelped, hiking up her crumpled, dusty skirts. "Will, wait for me!"

Then she took off after him as fast as her corset would let her.

She finally caught him just as he advanced on Commodore Norrington and his red-coated groupies, his utter panic evident.

"They've taken Elizabeth!" he blurted, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"The man's freaking obsessed," she muttered to nobody in particular. "Am I the only one who's noticed this?"

Nobody answered her, though. Instead instructions were given for Will to be removed, and there was general unpleasantness all the way around until Jack's name happened to come up, when one of the less-than-brilliant gentleman who had failed to protect the _Interceptor_ from Jack happened to mention that everybody's favourite scallywag had talked about the _Black Pearl_.

This, of course, got Will all hot under the collar, but not so much as did Norrington's cool dismissal of the information that had so excited our young hero. His axe ended up in the table in short order, and Norrington gave it a look that most men reserve for undercooked steak or a fly in their soup.

"Mr. Turner," he sighed, "you are not a military man. You are not a sailor. You are a blacksmith."

"And a good one, too!" Ginny piped up, but again was ignored, so she fell silent and tried to dust off her dress.

Will was sent on his way a short time later, and Ginny sprinted after him as best she could.

"I am so about to burn this bloody thing," she muttered, tugging at her waist as she hurried along. "Just you wait and see if I don't . . . hey, Will, could you slow down a bit? I think I'm getting a heat rash, or something."

Will, however, was depressingly unsympathetic, and Ginny figured it was a good thing that she knew where the prison was, or she'd likely have never caught up with him in time. As it was, she tumbled down the steps just in time to hear Will demand, "where does it make berth?"

Jack ignored Will, his gaze rolling lazily over to rest on Ginny. "Well, there you are, lass. I was beginning to think you had forgotten all about me."

Will shot Ginny a look of horror. "You _know_ him?"

She shrugged. "Only about as well as I know you. But he's much more sociable than you are. You could use some therapy, you know that, Will? Some really good group therapy would work wonders for this narrow-minded streak of yours."

Jack laughed and then turned his gaze back to Will, as if he had just remembered he was there.

"And you, boy- have you not heard the stories? Captain Barbossa and his crew of miscreants sailed from the dreaded Isla de Muerta . It's an island that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is."

Will glared. "The ship's real enough. Therefore, its anchorage must be a real place. Where is it?"

"Didn't you hear what he just told you?" Ginny rolled her eyes. "He just told you where it was!"

"That I did," Jack bobbed his head. "But why ask me, anyway, lad?"

Will's look could have liquefied granite. "Because you're a pirate."

Ginny sighed.

"An is right. You do have issues. But look here, boys, let's all of us just cut to the chase, okay? Elizabeth's been taken, and Will's pretty cut up about it. He's also been pretty rude as a result, but that's all part of the plot, and it kind of makes him look sexy, so we'll let it slide. My friend knows what's going on right now, but seeing as she's failed to put in an appearance, I'm guessing that she is likely unable to do so. And since I don't think she'd be stupid enough to get herself killed – at least I sure hope she wouldn't – then I'm guessing that she decided to go and pay a visit to Elizabeth, and ended up . . . where she is. Where Elizabeth is, I mean. And now, I guess, where An is, too . . . on board the _Black Pearl_."

She turned and addressed the occupant of the cell.

"Now you, Jack- you happen to know how to find the Black Pearl, just because you- well, you're Captain Jack Sparrow. But you are, however, in jail. Now, our Mr. Will Turner, here," she informed Jack, patting Will on the shoulder, "can get you out of this cell cause he built it. And you . . . I think you're interested now, am I right? In having . . . Will Turner help you out?"

Jack was indeed now very interested- especially, of course, in Will's name, on which subject he chose to dwell as he addressed the blacksmith casually.

"That would be short for William, I imagine. Good, strong name. No doubt named for your father, aye?"

Will was, predictably, slightly puzzled.

"Yes."

"Aha," Jack, now considerably enlightened, bobbed his head knowingly. "Well, Mr. Turner," he sat up a bit more, "I've changed me mind. If you spring me from this cell, I swear on pain of death I shall take you to the _Black Pearl_ and your bonny lass. Do we have an accord?"

Will nodded, and gripped the hand Jack offered.

"Agreed."

"Agreed," Jack sounded pleased. "Get me out."

Will obeyed with all haste, and the cell door clanged noisily to the floor. He looked around, worried, urging, "hurry. Someone will have heard that."

"Not without my effects!" Jack cautioned, only to have Ginny, who had already grabbed them all off the peg, thrust them at him and then give him a push in the direction of the door. She may even have skipped a little.

"Come on, boys!" she urged. "We've got to go have ourselves an adventure!"

I can't take her anywhere, really . . .

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000

Well, that's another chapter done with. I just don't understand where they're all coming from! I mean, I know I'm a little weird, but I hardly thought I was this unbalanced! Still, I did have help . . . Ginny provides me with the most effective encouragement to keep going. And you know it works, cause I'm still going . . .


	9. A lesson in commandeering

Gah, I'm running out of things to say! I can't believe it! I never thought this could happen to me! Wow . . . it's rather eerie, actually. I can hear crickets chirping . . .

Well, I suppose I should mention – as I have in the past eight chapters – that I have no legal claim to the movie or its characters. But I'd advise obtaining Ginny's consent before taking her anywhere. She's got a bit of a temper sometimes, and so do I, for that matter. So you'd better ask permission first.

Other than that . . . a hearty thanks to all you wonderful reviewers, and a plea to keep it up! I love you guys!

000

000

"We're going to steal a ship?" Will was in apparent disbelief, but his dismay mounted tenfold when he looked out onto the water to where the _Dauntless_ lay at anchor. "That ship?"

"Commandeer," Jack corrected patiently. "We're going to commandeer," he pointed to the _Interceptor_, "that ship. Nautical term," he added off-handedly.

Ginny's eyes sparkled.

"Cool," she breathed, peeking out from where she stood sandwiched between them both, up to her ankles in the ocean, her skirts now hopelessly soaked with seawater and caked with sand. She didn't much care that they were dirty so much as she did that they clung to her legs and were beginning to smell distinctly fishy. She supposed she would have to worry about that later, though- indeed, she figured she'd have more than her ankles to worry about by the time they had made it out to the _Dauntless_.

Before that happened, though, Jack had something he had to clear up. He turned around and addressed Will with a brisk, businesslike air.

"One question about your business boy, or there's no use going. This girl, how far are you willing to go to save her?"

Will's answer was, as always, dramatically impassioned. "I'd die for her."

Ginny, who hadn't been impressed in the least any of the five times she had seen it on the screen, was no less impressed in 'real' life, and rolled her eyes in disgust. Jack, however, was more indifferent than anything else as he bobbed his head.

"Oh, good. No worries, then."

It didn't take them very long at all after that to get themselves organised under the rowboat, although some concern was expressed about how tall Ginny was- or rather, wasn't. She possessed, after all, a height that was slightly less than that of Jack and Will, and was certain to present something of a difficulty when it came to them all being able to breathe in the air pocket under the boat.

"Remind me again," Will said plaintively, "why we even brought her along?"

Ginny huffed her indignation as Jack shrugged- at least, he shrugged as best he could with an overturned rowboat for a hat.

"Because. I don't want to knock her out, and if we left her behind conscious, she'd only blow the whistle on us. So in all, it's safer to bring her along."

"But," Will protested, "a lady should not be in such company as- as-" he broke off, embarrassed at what he had been about to say as they made their way into the water, and Jack gave him a wry glance.

"Such company as mine, y'mean, lad?"

Will, who had obviously meant exactly that, said nothing as the boat was completely submerged, and they began moving along the ocean floor. Jack sighed, and nodded, and Ginny, feeling rather uncomfortable in the silence that had befallen them, spoke up.

"Well, personally I think I'm in great company. Because I kind of want to get my friend back, and you two are heading to get her, right? So I think if I'm going to be anywhere, then this is where I want to be."

This did seem to ease the tension a little bit. Indeed, they had hardly gone another half dozen yards or so before Will found himself forced to admit, "this is either madness, or brilliance."

Jack bobbed his head. "It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide."

They moved on for another few steps, and then Ginny felt a slight shift in the balance of the boat that they held. Glancing back, she saw Will looking down at his foot in mild consternation.

"What is it?" she asked, grinning as she did, knowing full well what it was.

"I just put my foot in a crab trap," he looked vaguely embarrassed. "I, uh . . . I'll deal with it when we get to the ship."

Ginny shrugged.

"Works for me."

They continued on in silence.

000

Once they had arrived at the ship, Ginny required considerable assistance when it came to climbing up the ship. Her skirts weighed about a ton, full of water as they were, but since she didn't have the saving grace Elizabeth had of underclothes, she refused Jack's generous offer to cut her out of the dress so she could climb more easily. Instead, they tied the rope - that had been conveniently dangling down for them to shimmy up - around her waist a few times and half hauled, half pushed her up the back.

Ginny said later she felt depressingly like a sodden sack of potatoes, but that it had to beat being towed along behind in the rowboat, which was the other option she had been given.

Thus they all arrived on deck, more or less in one piece, and Ginny promptly sat down to wring her skirts out while Jack and Will went to inform the crew that the ship had changed ownership. She sighed, holding up dripping Birkenstocks to examine with a little grimace of disgust.

"These were brand new," she announced to nobody in particular. "Absolutely brand new. And now they're pretty much done for. Great. Gotta love it."

When nobody answered her Ginny sighed, tugged the soaking footwear back onto her feet, and stood up. She discovered that she had acquired a squelching sound as she walked, and so she squelched all the way down to the main deck, where Jack was attempting to instruct Will in the art of shaking out the sails. Will wasn't doing too poorly, but then, judging by Jack's elaborate gestures, neither was he doing too well. Ginny watched the elaborate procedure with mild interest for a minute or two, and then squelched over to the railing to look out over the water. It was quite a lovely day, and she rather lost track of how long she had been standing there until she heard Will's rather breathless report to Jack:

"Here they come."

Jack swung about, gave a rather telling grin in the direction of the approaching ship, and then headed down to the deck.

"Look lively, lass," he advised Ginny. "Could ye swing very far, do you think, if we were to give you a rope to do it on?"

Ginny shrugged.

"I could swing well enough, I guess. I'm not so sure about the letting go part, though, and that would kind of be important, don't you think?"

"Important enough," Jack agreed reflectively. "Well, we can but try, am I right? Come, lass, let's be finding you a place to hide . . . you too, lad," he added to Will, almost as an afterthought. Will and Ginny exchanged looks of slight uncertainty as Jack headed off towards some canvas, whistling cheerfully.

"Do you trust him?" Will asked dubiously, and Ginny shrugged.

"Sure. He's Captain Jack Sparrow, after all. And," she added, mostly as an afterthought, "he's just too, too hot."

Will obviously did not understand the exact meaning of her words, but from the tone of them he probably gathered that Ginny was not referring to temperature alone. He nodded uncertainly, and Ginny took pity on him.

"Look," she sighed, "Will. I understand that you're a little . . . preoccupied, and all that, what with Elizabeth being gone. But it's really very rude to talk about nothing but some girl who went running off with a bunch of undead murderers, you savvy?"

Yes, yes, I know. Ginny stole Jack's line too. But that's because she likes it, and she thinks it's a cool line. And she's right, of course. It is. Anyway.

"Aye . . ." Will said slowly. "But I don't think you understand, Miss Ting-"

"Ginny," she sighed, and he nodded.

"Ginny. I- I've loved Elizabeth ever since I can remember. She's . . ."

"Okay, Will," Ginny said quickly, "spare me the sonnets, please. I beg you. Let's just say that you're stuck on her, and leave it at that. Just look, if you're going to focus on something, there's nothing wrong with that, but just . . . just please change the subject for a bit, okay?"

Then she nodded towards where Jack was crouched amongst some canvas sails and rope on the deck, beckoning furiously at them both to come over and join him. "We had better both get over there now, I guess. And I'm warning you right now, William Turner," she added. "If I fall into the ocean trying to swing in this thing," she shook at her skirts as she squelched off, "I'm blaming you."

"Me!" Will was surprised, indignant, and a little hurt as he hurried after her, trying to keep up. "Why me?"

"Because," Ginny sighed, "it's your fault I came to watch this bloody movie in the first place. Now get down there with Jack, make some room for me, and keep quiet. We've got a boat to catch."

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000

Okay, I guess that's it for this one. Thanks, everybody- you're keeping me going! You and Ginny, of course, who's got a bloody sharp sword. Ouch. What respectable swordsmith sells a big, pointy thing to a teenage girl anyway, I'd like to know? It's not responsible business ownership.

Anyway, you guys – especially those really nice ones who aren't threatening parts of my anatomy – are all incredibly wonderful. I just love hearing from you! Thank you all so much!


	10. Culture shock

I still can't get over the wonderful response this has generated. You guys are just too, too amazing. I so much appreciate all of your generous comments, and can't tell you enough how key they are in helping me keep at this thing. Them, and, of course, the look in Ginny's eyes . . . brr . . . I get cold shivers. I'm writing, Ginny, I'm writing!

And because I am writing here, rather than for Disney or whoever, you may safely assume that it is not I who own the movie, right? Right. Good, glad we got that cleared up. Because there's no way I'd have been able to rub two pennies together to come up with the defence for a lawsuit. University is a cold, hard fact of life, and tuition is just that extra kick in the seat of the pants you wanted to avoid but couldn't.

So I cheer myself up by working on this, and I hope I don't torture you in the meantime! Read and review, naturally, but most of all, please enjoy!

000

000

They caught their boat. They caught it quite deftly, in fact, and Ginny was more relieved than she had even known she would be that she didn't go tumbling down into the ocean rather than landing safely – if rather clumsily – in a heap of salty skirts and squelching sandals on the deck of the _Interceptor_.

She struggled to her feet and squelched along after Will as he chopped through the mooring lines, and then headed over to find a spot to settle down next to the wheel as Jack started them off on their course. He then turned to give the Commodore a cheery wave and a few lines of parting before they were out of earshot- and out of range of the one poor sod who tried to swing back over to the _Interceptor_ from the _Dauntless_, with predictable results.

Once they had gotten safely underway Ginny grew restless, and at last muttered an excuse to the pair that she was heading belowdecks to freshen up.

Ginny, of course, really couldn't have cared less if she had freshened up or not, but she had a terrible, nagging desire to explore the ship. This is in fact what she did for the next little while, until her sandals had dried out enough that they were no longer squelching but squeaking, and she found herself back up on deck. Since she was there, she decided to take a quick breath of fresh air before heading back down below.

She took a rather deep breath, however- deep, and sharp, when she saw what was going on.

Jack was standing near the wheel, the usual confident tilt to his posture. He was in the midst of addressing Will, who was dangling precariously out above the shark-infested waters, with endearing casualness.

"Now as long as you're just hanging there, pay attention. The only rules that really matter are these: what a man can do and what a man can't do. For instance – you can accept that your father was a pirate and a good man or you can't. But pirate is in your blood, boy, so you'll have to square with that someday."

Ginny yelped. "Wait!" she squealed. "Wait a second, here, and let's think about this! This is _so_ not a good thing, here. He could fall! He could drown, or be eaten, or hit his head, or- or- something! You have to let him down!"

"All in good time, love," Jack said agreeably, "all in good time. Me and Mr. Turner, here, were just having ourselves a sociable little chat of a sort, weren't we, now, lad?"

Will could only grip, grimace, grunt and glare, but he did all four with remarkable fervour, and Ginny, even though she knew he was supposed to make it back safely, couldn't help but be worried all the same. She'd already altered a few minor points in the plot line . . . who was to say that her very presence here now wouldn't alter a major one? She tugged on Jack's sleeve desperately.

"Look," she gasped, "Jack – I mean, Captain Sparrow – could you just maybe-"

"Shush, lass," he remonstrated her. "I'm clarifying things with Mr. Turner. You don't want to make me lose me place, as it were, because then I'd be having to start all over again. And blacksmith or not, who knows how long the lad can really hold on to that there boom? So you just hush, and I'll be hurrying along as best I can."

Then, as Ginny fell silent, he turned back to Will.

"As I was saying, lad. Me, for example, I can let you drown but I can't bring this ship into Tortuga all by me onesies, savvy? So," he gave the wheel a shove, and swung the boom – with Will still dangling from it – back onboard. Will fell down, landing flat on his back. He blinked, startled, and then looked up to find Jack was offering him his sword as he finished with a question.

"Can you sail under the command of a pirate or can you not?"

Will accepted the sword as Ginny let out an audible sigh of relief, and then shot Jack an uncertain glance.

"Tortuga?"

Jack grinned.

"Tortuga."

000

They arrived not long after nightfall, and already Tortuga was bustling with nightlife- or perhaps, Ginny reflected, hiking up her skirts and carefully picking her way over a snoring drunk, it was like this all the time. Certainly Jack had protested violently enough when he learned she planned to come along, saying he had no desire to play nursemaid, and almost as little desire to see her carted off by some person or other, thus delaying their trip while they tried to get her back. She had been indignant, of course, and had thrown a rather admirable tantrum, until at last Jack, for the sake of his sanity, had to give in.

Now he was waxing poetic on the virtues of the very port in which he had been so reluctant to allow her presence.

"More importantly," he was informing Will, as Ginny hurried along in their wake, "it is indeed a sad life that has never breathed deep the sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga, savvy?" He snatched a walking stick out of the hand of a passing fellow who would probably be halfway home – or wherever he was off to – before he even realised it was gone, and then addressed them both.

"What do you think?"

Ginny, too busy dodging the groping hands of a pair of grimy-looking sailors, said nothing, merely wrinkling her nose in disgust. Will voiced what seemed to be their mutual opinion, his expression far more telling than his words could ever be.

"It'll linger."

Jack, oblivious to the sarcasm, bobbed his head. "I'll tell you mate," he observed, their odd little group of the three of them still pushing their way forward, "if every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted."

Then he looked up and caught sight of a skinny – almost scrawny – woman in a red dress with equally fiery hair. The style of her dress, not to mention the manner with which she wore it, made her profession quite clear. So could the vibrant red colours she wore, both on her body and on her head, have possibly contributed to the name by which Jack addressed her, his enthusiasm evident.

"Scarlet!"

Scarlet, less enthused, returned his greeting with the flat of her hand laid across his cheek with a splitting crack that snapped his face back around to meet the startled gaze of Will and the barely-concealed smirk of Ginny. He made a rather wounded face of his own, and muttered, "not sure I deserved that."

He then caught sight of another strumpet marching towards him, this one blonde. He brightened considerably.

"Giselle!"

Giselle was slightly more vocal than Scarlet. "Who was she?" she demanded, and Jack blinked.

"What?"

For an answer she gave him a solid slap of her own and flounced off, leaving Jack to muse regretfully, "I may have deserved that."

Will blinked. Ginny giggled. The trio moved on.

They moved on, in fact, until they came to a place where sweetly slumbered three semi-dirty pigs and one very dirty man, slightly beyond his middle age. He was, of course, Mr. Gibbs of Elizabeth's crossing eight years previously, and had obviously come down in the world since then. Jack unceremoniously doused him with a bucket of water, and the man's reaction was, predictably, both immediate and violent.

"Curse you for breathing, you slack jawed idiot!" he roared, drawing a dagger as he did, and blinking about half-blindly until he could see who it was that stood before him. Once he did, his manner underwent a sudden shift. "Mother's love!" he breathed. "Jack! You should know better then to wake a man when he's sleeping. S'bad luck."

Jack gave an impish grin as he lowered himself to one knee to better address himself to the semi-upright – and rather foul-smelling – fellow who lay before him.

"Ah," he said casually, "fortunately I know how to counter it. The man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink. The man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking."

For a minute, Gibbs bore a puzzled expression on his face, as if he were trying to see through a thick fog. Then the look cleared, and he grinned. "Aye," he offered his hand to Jack, who took it and heaved him up to his feet, "that'll about do it."

No sooner was he on his feet, though, than did Will take it upon himself to further douse the man with the contents of the bucket he himself held. Gibbs sputtered and spat before roaring, "blast! I'm already awake!"

Will gave him an innocent look, and explained,

"That was for the smell."

000

It took them only a matter of minutes after that to locate a bustling tavern, in which Jack procured two drinks, and before going to sit at a table with Gibbs, turned to address Will.

"Keep a sharp eye," he advised, then gave Ginny a sidelong glance. "Especially on her," he muttered, then hurried off to sit at a secluded table with Gibbs and the drinks. While Will tried to divide his attention between the commotion in the room and the fascinated girl at his side, Gibbs addressed Jack with a businesslike air.

"Now, what's the nature of this venture yourn?"

Jack didn't mince words. "I'm going after the _Black Pearl_."

Mr. Gibbs choked violently on his drink, and as he gaped at the man who sat before him, Jack continued on in a matter-of-fact manner.

"I know where it's going to be and I'm going to take it."

Ginny turned her head slightly, glancing over at the table as Mr. Gibbs expressed doubt. "Jack, it's a fool's errand. Well, you know better than me the tales of the _Black Pearl_."

Jack nodded. "That's why I know what Barbossa is up to. All I need is a crew."

Gibbs shook his head doubtfully. "From what I hear tell of Captain Barbossa, he's not a man to suffer fools nor strike a bargain with one."

"Well," Jack arched an eyebrow under his bandanna, "then I say it's a very good thing I'm not a fool then, aye?"

"Prove me wrong," Gibbs challenged him. "What makes ye think Barbossa will give up his ship to you?"

Jack lowered his voice to speak, but by now Ginny was well aware of what point the conversation was at, and tugged on Will's sleeve, getting him to turn his own head enough to hear the Captain's next words.

"Let's just say it's a matter of leverage, aye?"

Will shot Ginny a bewildered glance in the midst of the grunting and head-titling that followed as Jack tried to get Gibbs to see what it was he meant by leverage. At last Gibbs caught on, glancing over to where an obese woman with a rather revealing outfit was trying to snuggle up to Will, only to have Ginny fend her off.

"The kid?" he blinked. "Or- the girl?"

Jack sighed before affirming that it was, indeed, 'the kid' he meant. "That is the child of Bootstrap Bill Turner." Jack paused, then added, "His only child. Savvy?"

A gleam of understanding appeared on Gibbs' face. "Is he now? Leverage says you . . . I think I feel a change in the wind says I. I'll find us a crew- there's bound to be some sailors on this rock crazy as you."

Jack shrugged slightly. "One can only hope."

He raised his tankard. "Take what you can . . ."

Gibbs' own tankard met his with a clink as he finished, "give nothing back."

Oblivious to the fact that Ginny and Will were exchanging sober looks on the other side of the support post, the two men drained their drinks to the last drop.

"Well," Ginny observed, "this is sure going to be an interesting trip."

Will chewed on his bottom lip.

"Aye," he murmured, "very."

000

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This one's done, but there's lots more to come, especially with all of those lovely reviews making me giggle and grin like an absolute idiot! Not that writing this in the first place doesn't make me feel like an idiot, but somehow this is a better sort of idiocy. I can't tell you what the feedback means to me. You guys are fantastic. Thank you so, so much. Please, don't stop reading! There's plenty more to come, and I hope you enjoy that as well!


	11. Tic tac toe and post traumatic stress sy...

Wow, I just can't tell you often enough how much the reviews mean to me. I so enjoy getting them, especially since I don't consider this to be much of anything in the way of great literature, and in fact think it's just about as far in the opposite direction as anything can possibly get, so it's really nice to know people are being kind enough to check it out despite its shortcomings.

One of its many shortcomings, by the way - at least in my mind - is that I am not making any money off of this. But that is also a good thing, because in order to do so I would have to own the movie, and I don't! Instead I own approximately half of the contents of my dorm room (which is very tiny, and humid too. Just thought you'd like to know) and a miniature library of books and the three dogs I had to leave behind. Not the movie. It's a tragedy, I know, but the fact remains, and that means I am a pretty poor candidate for a lawsuit, so just forget about that.

Let's not, however, forget to review! You guys have done such a great job of it insofar, it would be a shame to spoil your record now, don't you think? Anyway, regardless of whether you do choose to review, I sincerely hope you enjoy it. Just because this is a gift for one particular person, doesn't mean I don't hope that other people like it too. So please- do enjoy!

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000

Elizabeth and I, I will admit right now, did not enjoy ourselves at all on the _Black Pearl_. In fact, it got so that we were both having quite a miserable time of it, seeing as after we had filled each and every pane of glass in the windows with our tic tac toe games (she won two, I won thirty-eight. She had never played before) I quite unexpectedly took seasick.

I had never been seasick before, which seemed strange to me at the time because I had certainly been to sea often enough, what with living on the coast. Of course, I hadn't ever been to sea in an ancient, rocking old tub of a cursed boat, either, so that might have had something to do with my greenish tinge as I leaned out one of the tiny windows and repeatedly emptied my stomach into the waters frothing below.

Elizabeth did what she could by offering towels and rubbing my back in sympathy.

"You're something of a poor sailor," she observed generously, passing me a cloth, and I spared her a bitter look.

"Thank you," I growled. "I might not have noticed, otherwise."

She blushed, watching as I waved the cloth out the window, catching as much of the cool mist as I could before bringing it back inside to press to my cheeks. "I'm sorry," she sighed, moving to rest her weight against the wall. "That was quite rude of me. I- I speak my mind at the worst possible times, but I can never seem to do it when it counts the most, for some reason."

I couldn't find it in my heart to stay mad at her, instead turning to watch as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back to rest against one of the panes of glass, smudging one of our games in the process.

"What do you mean?" I prompted at last, when she seemed inclined to remain quiet. She opened her eyes and gave me a slightly embarrassed smile.

"Well," she said hesitantly, "there- there's a . . . a certain young man."

My eyes lit up and I grinned. "Ahh. Will."

She looked startled, to say the least. "For crying out loud! Does _everybody_ know?"

I was confused. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh," she blushed again. "My- my maid, you see, she- well, never mind her right now. _She's_ safe," Elizabeth added, with just the barest hint of bitterness to her tone. "_We're_ the ones out here on this bally awful boat-"

"Ship," I corrected, and she nodded distractedly.

"Ship, headed who knows where to who knows what point or purpose . . . why do you suppose they want us, anyhow?" she mused more to herself than to me. "I didn't tell them who I really was . . . for what purpose could they want a maid?"

I knew, of course, why they wanted her, and I figured they had brought me along as well for some reason or other. In fact, I could think of one particular reason they might want an extra generic female around once they had lifted the curse, but it wasn't anything I cared to dwell on for long, so I just shrugged, managed a weak, slightly woozy smile and said it sure beat me. Then I redirected the subject.

"So- you and Will, right?"

Her cheeks pinkened yet again.

"Well . . . no, not really. This- this is what I meant, you see, about not opening my mouth when it really counts. Oh, to be sure I have given him- signals, I suppose you might call them. But he has never given any indication that he . . ." she broke off, sudden sorrow crossing her face.

"I do not suppose," she said without much hope, "that you know what it feels like to want something to happen so very badly that it begins to feel as if your heart is being ripped from your very chest with each passing second it is denied to you. I do not suppose you have ever- ever met somebody who feels so right for you from the moment you meet that the feeling only grows and grows the longer you are kept apart. I do not suppose . . ." she bit her lower lip, as if she were almost scared to speak the words. "You have ever been in love."

I considered.

"Uh, well, I guess that there was this one thing one time with a boy I knew- but that was a mistake, so we won't get into that. So no, I haven't, really. Especially not to the degree that you are. But," I tilted my head to the side and smiled, "to listen to you talk about it, I think I'll have to set aside some time in my schedule to make sure that I do. Anything that gets you that worked up . . . it's gotta be worth it, in the long run."

The poor thing looked like she hardly dared to hope.

"You really think so?"

Okay, so I know I said I wouldn't give away any of the plot to her or anything like that, but surely a few words of encouragement could be justified, couldn't they? I sure thought so at the time, at least, so I gave them. "I know so," I smiled. "Now. How about we breathe on one of those panes and see if we can't get it fogged up enough for one more-"

I broke off at the sound of the door to the cabin opening to admit Pintel, Ragetti and a pair of beautiful gowns. Well, it really opened to admit Pintel and Ragetti, who were each carrying a beautiful gown, but the gowns were so lovely I really think they deemed mention all on their own.

"You'll be dinin' with the captain," Pintel glowered, and extended the wine-coloured dress he held. Ragetti, seeing, followed suit with the deep green one in his own arms. "And he requests you wear these."

I felt my stomach lurch as the ship rolled slightly, and I am positive I turned the exact same shade as the gown that seemed to be intended for me. As I staggered back to the window to empty the remnants of my theatre popcorn and gummies into the tide, I heard Elizabeth's flip reply.

"Well, you may tell the captain that I am disinclined to acquiesce to his request."

I smiled weakly down at the black waters, allowing the spray to chill my face before I returned the entirety of myself to the interior of the cabin in time to see the leer that accompanied Pintel's reply.

"He said you'd say that. He also said if that be the case you'll be dinin' with the crew- and you'll be naked."

I could see the muted revulsion on her face just before she snatched the dress from his hands. His own face fell into an almost sulky expression.

"Fine," he said, then turned to eye me speculatively. I narrowed my eyes.

"And you may kindly tell the captain from me," I slurred, "that I am quite ill. I am vomiting every minute as regular as clockwork. But should he care to have me come up and do so all over his lovely old table I should be delighted to oblige him. Barring that, I should also be pleased to accompany you fellows to the galley and throw up on each of you in turn. However, should neither prospect appeal to either party, I will keep my own clothes," I mentally crossed my fingers for the slight exaggeration, "and remain as I am. With easy access to an exterior window."

An uncertain pair of glances was exchanged between the pair, and then Pintel observed, "well, she ain't no Turner . . ." then he turned and nodded at me. "All right then, you, we'll pass it along to the captain as you say, and if he don't want you then I reckon you kin stay."

"You're too kind," I muttered, and then bolted for the window once more.

000

The Captain, rather predictably, wanted nothing to do with me nor my weak stomach. Elizabeth and her pretty dress were escorted out of the cabin, leaving me and my considerably grimier one to cuddle down in a corner near the window and will my nausea to pass.

My nausea didn't, but consciousness did. I slipped into a restless, rocking, uneasy sleep for who knew how long, only to be jolted rudely from it by the sound of Elizabeth's not so distant screams. I yawned, sighed and then struggled to my feet. My head spun a bit, but surprisingly enough my stomach behaved itself, allowing me to make my way over to the window once more. I stuck my head out yet again, cooling my face and listening to Elizabeth shriek and holler as she was chased about the ship by a bunch of skeletons. I had to cringe in sympathy at the thought- certainly, a bunch of gruesome bones walking about can't be much fun as company under the best of circumstances, and these were certainly far from the best of circumstances.

Indeed, it was not long at all after that that Elizabeth came flying into the cabin, whose doors were banged shut behind her to the sound of vociferous laughter on the other side of it. Panting desperately she bolted to the farthest corner and flew under the table where she huddled like a frightened child. All of my babysitting instincts kicked in, and I hauled myself over to join her.

"Shh," I sighed as she fell against me, whimpering the way many of the kids I sit for do when they've had a bad dream. "Shh, it's okay. They're out there and you're in here. They're gone, Elizabeth. They're gone."

She nodded tearfully but did not look up, almost as if she feared she would see that I, too, was a skeleton. So I just let her lie there, and at some point during the night, as the sky lightened and dawn approached, we both of us managed to fall asleep.

000

000

Okay, that's it for now. And do you know what? I just realised I'm over halfway to the end of the movie- and, as a result, the story. I can hardly believe it! Thanks so much for your support, all of you. I love getting the feedback, and look forward to, I hope, much more. In the meantime, those of you who have been kind enough to oblige me with dropping a few words off to let me know what you thought, you have my gratitude.


	12. A questionable crew

Well, thank you all for your feedback! It's just such a treat to come back to all of your praise and encouragement. I so enjoy knowing that there are other people besides Ginny and myself who are having fun with this.

I don't suggest, however, you get any ideas about having fun in court. A lawsuit would yield you the collection of lint in my pockets and the dust on top of my bookshelves if you got especially fortunate (I plan to dust today, so you probably won't even get that) so it's really not worth your time, because I am making no money off of this. I simply enjoy having fun with characters and a plot I do not - I repeat, do not - own (well, I do technically own the whole bit about Ginny and me being there- or at least, all of our reactions and stuff, but nothing else, and even the whole self insert thing has been done a ridiculous number of times already)

So I don't steal ideas, I just borrow them and properly credit their authors- in this case, Disney and its affiliates. Yay them- especially since they were so clever as to come up with the idea of a sequel. Gotta love those people. I also love you guys- you're such fantastic reviewers! Thank you all so much, and please, if you get a minute, be so good as to keep it up. It's such an encouragement to get them, and I really appreciate it. Now dig in, and have fun!

000

000

Ginny tossed and turned for quite some time, finding that a corset is a very tricky thing to lie down at all in, never mind actually sleep in. And no sooner had she dozed off, it seemed, than she was awoken early in the morning by a fierce pounding on the thick oak door to the broom closet that had been rented out to her for the night under the guise of being a room in the inn. When she stumbled to the door to open it she found Will and Jack on the other side of it. Although Will was slightly rumpled, Jack looked exactly the same as he had the night before, provoking her to wonder to herself if he always slept in those clothes.

"Rise and shine, lass," he advised her. "We'll be wanting to get as early a start as we can, if you be wanting to save your friend."

Ginny has not yet confessed to this, but I do secretly believe she did take a second or two at that time to seriously weigh the merits of the narrow little bed allotted to her as opposed to my rescue. I won out by, I am sure, a very narrow margin, causing her to mutter something that was reluctantly acquiescent as she slammed the door on Jack's envious observation to Will,

"Her room's bigger than ours."

Ginny stumbled over to the low commode wedged in tight beside the bed and splashed some of the stale water in the basin on her face. Trying not to think about the bacteria that was likely multiplying by the minute in it, she then attempted to rake her fingers through the grimy blonde tresses that were beginning to mat around her shoulders. Once she had tamed the mats to knots, straightened out her dress and took a few deep breaths to test the confines of the corset that threatened to strangle her, she decided she was as ready as she was going to get and headed out the door to locate her compatriots.

They were lined up at the bar with Mr. Gibbs, Jack and Gibbs both protesting it was inhumane of the bartender to deny them an early-morning pint. The bartender, however, who had only just cleaned up the mess from the previous night, remained firm, so at last the men gave up in defeat as Gibbs led them outside and down to the docks, where his idea of a crew was lined up waiting for them.

"Feast your eyes, Captain," Gibbs invited enthusiastically as Jack paraded up and down the lines, inspecting the lot of them and Will and Ginny followed along behind. "All of them faithful hands before the mast. Every man worth his salt . . . and crazy to boot."

If you've seen the movie you know what sort of men were lined up. Ginny, however, got to see them at close range and affirms that the movie did not do them justice even by half. She says the men with peg-legs outweighed the men with two normal ones; that there was even one man with two peg legs. She says that each one stank worse than the one before him. Several made whistling noises with each breath they took, and more than one of them bore what I would later suggest had been smallpox scars. There was of course the midget, and one man appeared to be entirely blind. At last Will leaned in and muttered his doubt to Jack in the form of a question.

"So this is your able-bodied crew?"

Jack paid him no mind, instead drawing up in front of a man who bore a parrot on his shoulder- the infamous mute, Mr. Cotton. "You," he addressed him, "sailor!"

"Cotton, Sir," Gibbs supplied helpfully, and Jack bobbed his head quickly.

"Mr. Cotton," he resumed, "do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?"

Mr. Cotton was silent, and Jack was not patient.

"Mr. Cotton!" he prompted. "Answer, man!"

Gibbs jumped in quickly with the explanation. "He's a mute, sir. Poor devil had his tongue cut out," he elaborated as Mr. Cotton opened his mouth to show off his gruesome stump, causing both Jack and Will to cringe and Ginny to squeal, "so he trained the parrot to talk for him. No one's yet figured how."

Jack nodded, appearing to consider this before he turned to the feathered avian seated on the man's shoulder.

"Mr. Cotton's . . . parrot," he tried gamely. "Same question."

The parrot spread its wings obligingly and squawked, "wind in the sails! Wind in the sails!"

Before there could be any doubt as to the parrot's integrity, or his ability to comprehend, Gibbs offered, "mostly we figure that means 'yes.'"

Jack nodded as if there had never been any doubt. "Of course it does."

He turned to Will. "Satisfied?"

"Well," Will observed, "you've proved them mad."

"Mad as march hares," Ginny added, wide eyed, still ogling Cotton's tongue-stump. "Eew."

It was at this point that a female voice rang out from the end of the ragtag line-up. "And what's the benefit for us?"

At the sound of the voice Jack spun around, eyes searching almost apprehensively for its source. At last lighting on a petite female figure at the end of the line who wore a hat drawn well down over her eyes, Jack proceeded cautiously down to peek under the hat. Apparently he didn't get much of a look in that fashion, because he gingerly reached for the brim of the hat, lifting it up and then pulling it off to reveal the lovely, cocoa-skinned young woman under it. She glowered darkly up at him as Jack managed a weak smile of greeting.

"Anamaria," he identified her, and her hand flashed up, cracking him hard across the cheek.

Will eyed him sceptically, remarking, "I suppose you didn't deserve that one either."

"No," Jack admitted, "that one I deserved."

Anamaria nodded emphatically before turning her attentions back to Jack and accusing, "you stole my boat!"

"Actually," Jack began, but before he could continue she cracked him again. "Borrowed," he corrected hastily, before she could think of slapping him yet once more. "Borrowed without permission. But with every intention of bringing it back to you."

"But you didn't!" Anamaria flared, making Jack cringe, and promise quickly,

"You'll get another one."

Anamaria stabbed her forefinger in his direction. "I will."

Will, seeing that things didn't seem to be going all that well, offered his own input. "A better one."

"A better one!" Jack echoed energetically.

Will, seeing Anamaria appeared to be wavering, decided to help her along even more. "That one," he said, pointing out to the _Interceptor_.

"What one?" Jack swung round in confusion, and when he saw in what direction Will was pointing he nearly had a conniption. "That one!" he yelped, but when Will gave him a pointed look he reluctantly swung back to face Anamaria and confirm. "Aye! That one. What say you?"

"Aye!" roared the crew, Anamaria included.

Gibbs, however, was less enthusiastic about this notion, and as the others all hustled along down toward the end of the dock, he hurried up to where Jack stood with Ginny and Will in a frantic attempt to plead his case.

"No, no, no, no, no," he warned, "it's frightful bad luck to bring a woman aboard, sir."

Jack arched an eyebrow in surprise, jerking his head in Ginny's direction.

"And what did you expect we was to be doing with her, then, Mr. Gibbs? Leave her on the docks to ripen until we returned? 'Twere she and Mr. Turner who commissioned my . . . assistance in the first place, and I heard no protests against the - erm - fair sex before now. Besides," he wrinkled his brow, turning his head to examine the sky, "It'd be far worse luck not to have . . . Miss Anamaria along. Trust me."

Then he started off after the crew, leaving Gibbs, Will and Ginny to all eye the skies as well in bemusement. What had Jack been looking at?

000

They found out all too soon when, well out to sea, a fierce storm broke upon them. Rain and wind lashed them with equal ferocity as people struggled to secure their lifelines before fighting the elements to go about their business. As Will helped Ginny tie her rope properly around her already painfully cinched waist, he turned his head to roar through the wind at Gibbs, "how can we sail to an island that nobody can find with a compass that doesn't work?"

Gibbs, however, appeared totally unconcerned as he observed,

"Aye, the compass doesn't point north- but we're not trying to find north, are we?" Then he swung around to head up and address Jack. "We should drop canvas, sir."

Jack, though, vetoed this. "She can hold a bit longer," he observed, directing his attentions at the compass he held. Gibbs was understandably puzzled, and wondered,

"What's in your head that's put you in such a fine mood, Captain?"

Jack's grin was one of almost feral delight.

"We're catching up."

000

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All right, no more for now- sorry it took me so long to update, but it was Thanksgiving up here in Canada this weekend, so I got to spend lots of time back home with my family, which I must admit is almost as fun as working on this fic. Then the whole upload process began to conspire against me, which was mean of it, and it's only just begun to behave again. I expect to be spending a lot of time studying for next week's midterm this weekend, but I hope to have a few spare minutes at some point, and I might or might not post something then, depending on how perky I feel, hehe. You guys have been doing a wonderful job of keeping me perky so far, though- it's been fabulous to know that there are so many people having fun with this, so please, by all means, keep it up and let me know what you think!


	13. A little history lesson

Yay, reviews! You guy are just the best ever, seriously! I love you all- you are just too, too fantastic! I never expected to get more than a handful for this fic, but you've all just been so sweet to me!

Not sweet, though, would be a lawsuit. I don't have the money for that - I haven't got any money at all, and next to nothing with any resale value to speak of - so don't even go there. My lack of earthly goods should be enough of an indication to you that I cannot possibly lay any valid claim to owning this movie, so just put that crazy idea right out of your heads, okay? Great.

Now, please, enjoy!

000

000

Elizabeth and I awoke to a cold, grey, and generally foreboding morning. We unfolded ourselves stiffly from our hiding spot under the table and then clambered to our feet, trying as we did to ignore the states of our respective dresses. It wasn't easy.

"Filthy," I muttered, trying to dust off the grimy brocade hem as best I could with my hands and a set of lovely old linen napkins I found in a drawer. "It's just filthy. I feel horrible about this . . ."

Then I fell silent as I tried to clean it up, but only succeeded in rubbing the dirt in deeper, staining the hem of the once creamy-coloured gown a muted beige. When I saw that this was not going to work, I tugged my knotted hair down over my shoulders in a gesture of frustration. Elizabeth gave me a sympathetic smile and then wandered over to peer out one of the windows.

"What do you see?" I wanted to know, trying to coerce my hair into attaining some sort of orderly state. My hair is so thick that if I don't brush it several times a day, you could easily mistake it for the nesting spot of some of the local avian life. I had neglected it for far too long, and was now paying the price.

"Land," Elizabeth whispered. She hiked up her own skirts unceremoniously - oh, sure, easy for her to do. She had grown up in the darn things - and settled herself down on the table so she could look out better.

I had just managed to poke and prod a mess of wild dark curls up off the back of my neck to join their fellows in a loose knot of sorts when we heard the sound of the doorknob rattling as it was turned from outside. Both Elizabeth and I spun around in time to see it open to admit three nasty looking people. It was Pintel, Ragetti and some unfriendly looking fellow I had hitherto seen only on screen, and all three of them approached us together. Pintel held entirely too much rope in his grubby hands as he announced ominously,

"Time to go, poppets."

Elizabeth cringed slightly, and I let out an indignant yelp.

"Me! Why do I have to come along? I'm not a Turner! I'm not important! I am worthless! You may as well just throw me overboard, and to be honest, I don't know why you haven't done that by now. I wasn't even a part of the plot line until just now- this makes no sense! Why do you want me to come along?"

"Let's just say," Pintel smirked, "that it's the Captain's orders. And when the Captain has a temper as foul as our own one does, then you'll be wanting to be humouring the Captain."

I gulped, and extended my wrists obediently. "Well then who am I to criticise? By all means, gentlemen- tie away."

They tied me, and they tied Elizabeth as well before we were hustled up on to the deck together where Barbossa and his little gold trinket were awaiting us.

Elizabeth, being the lady of the hour, so to speak, got most of the attention, which I didn't mind at all. While they were all flocking around her, sniggering as Barbossa placed the medallion about her neck with great ceremony, I picked a few pockets, amassed a modest collection of loose change and a small brooch, then smiled ever-so-innocently when one particularly large fellow turned a suspicious glance on me. He eyed me appraisingly, and I widened my eyes innocently in response. At last, apparently satisfied I was going to be no trouble at all, he grunted and shoved me on ahead of him towards the boats.

I enjoy being a girl.

000

Ginny, meantime, was having a bit less fun than I was. As they sailed through the passage to get to the caves, she was helping mop up decks after the storm. Or at least, she was trying to- her skirts kept getting in the way.

"Dead men tell no tales," Cotton's parrot cackled as she almost took a nosedive after putting her foot on the sopping, slippery hem of her dress. She shot him a baleful glance and struggled along with the mop as Gibbs observed grimly,

"Puts a chill in my bones how many honest sailors have been claimed by this passage."

"Probably almost as many as honest ladies were claimed by skirts like these," she muttered, kicking her own out of the way, nearly losing her balance and doing a complete back flip in the process.

"Augh!" she hollered, stomping on the hem. "Bloody stupid thing!"

A gentle laugh interrupted her thoughts, and at the sound of it she spun around to find an amused-looking Anamaria standing there, looking at her. It was such a change for Ginny to see an honest to goodness smile on the woman's face that for just one, record-breaking second, my friend was robbed of her tongue. She found it again in no time, however, and her eyes narrowed.

"Easy for you to laugh," she muttered, "you're wearing pants."

Anamaria broke into a fresh burst of laughter and Ginny met her merry face with a baleful glance. At last Anamaria took pity on her and demonstrated a nifty little trick. She supplied Ginny with a length of string and showed her how to hike the skirts up far enough to expose her ankles - and her squeaking sandals, of course - and then pile the excess on top of itself in the back, tying it in place with the cord around her waist. The result was a rather bawdy, but serviceable, look.

"I feel like a fishwife," Ginny observed, driving the mop across the deck. "I really do. I feel like a bloody fishwife."

"Well, you look very nice, lass," Jack observed generously, and Ginny turned bright pink.

"Really? You think so?"

Jack blinked.

"Well- uh - aye."

Ginny giggled and set off once more, pushing her mop with a much lighter heart. She went about her task so intently, in fact, that she had made it all the way down to where Gibbs and Will were kneeling by the time they began their conversation.

"How is it," Will wanted to know, "that Jack came by that compass?"

Ginny paused in her mopping and turned so her body was angled in such a way that she became a part of the conversation.

"Yeah," she echoed, even though she already knew the answer, "how?"

Gibbs sighed the sigh of a storyteller settling into a particularly delicious tale.

"Not a lot's known about Jack Sparrow before he showed up in Tortuga with a mind to go after the treasure of the Isla de Muerta," he admitted. "That was before I met him. Back when he was Captain of the _Black Pearl_."

"What?" there was no disguising Will's shock as he swung around to eye Jack with new-found appraisal. "He failed to mention that."

"The nerve of him," Ginny huffed supportively, and Gibbs gave a rolling shrug.

"Well, he plays things close to the vest now," he explained. "And a hard-learned lesson it was. See, three days out on the venture, the first mate comes to him and says everything's an equal share; that should mean the location of the treasure, too. So, Jack gives up the bearings."

Both Will and Ginny found themselves leaning in to get a better earful of the story as Gibbs went on.

"That night there was a mutiny. They marooned Jack on an island and left him to die . . . but not before he'd gone mad with the heat."

"Ah," Will nodded with the air of one enlightened. "So that's the reason for the . . ." He hesitated, then waved his hands and did something squiggly with his eyes and eyebrows that made Ginny stifle a giggle as Gibbs shook his head.

"Reason's got nothing to do with it. Now then you two, when a man is marooned he is a given a pistol with a single shot. Well, it won't do much good hunting or to be rescued. But after three weeks of a starvin' belly and thirst," he smirked, raising his hand to his temple to form the shape of just such a weapon, "that pistol starts to look real friendly. But Jack, he made it off the island and he still has that one shot. Oh, but he won't use it though, save for one man: his mutinous first mate."

Will made the connection as beautifully as anybody could have asked him to as he breathed, "Barbossa."

"Aye," Gibbs grinned.

Will nodded, mulling this over. Then a thought appeared to occur to him, and he looked up to ask, "how did Jack get off the island?"

"Well, I'll tell you," Gibbs said earnestly. "He waded out into the shallows and there he waited three days and three nights, till all manner of sea creatures came and acclimated to his presence. And on the fourth morning he roped himself a couple of sea turtles, harnessed them together and made a raft."

Will was silent for a minute, and at last he spoke, his disbelief readily detectable.

"He roped a couple of sea turtles?"

"Aye," Gibbs grinned, "sea turtles."

Will was silent for a second, and then wondered,

"What did he use for rope?"

Gibbs opened his mouth to answer, and then realised that he had no answer prepared. He need not have worried, however- Jack was right beside them, and he had an answer ready for them all.

"Human hair," he deadpanned. "From my back."

Gibbs turned a triumphant grin on Will, who seemed prepared to accept this as fact, but Ginny was not so easily swayed. She gave Jack a look that was wholly sceptical and accused, "oh, come on, Jack - or Captain or whatever - I bet you don't even _have_ any hair on your back."

"Well, of course I don't," Jack was mildly affronted. "Not anymore." Ginny rolled her eyes as he turned away from then to holler, "let go of the anchor!"

"Let go the anchor, Sir!" came the affirmative response, and Jack nodded, turning to address Gibbs.

"Young Mr. Turner and I are to go ashore."

"And me!" Ginny piped up, but Jack whirled on her in an instant.

"No, not you! Who said you was coming!"

"I say I'm coming," she glared. "So I'm coming. It's my call."

"No," Jack's scowl was black as he advanced on her, disregarding the fact that she was not backing down, "it's my call. I am Captain of this boat - ship - and it's my call, and you are not coming ashore. You are staying here."

"I," Ginny took a step forward so her forehead was level with his chin, "am. Not."

Jack would have stepped forward still farther if it hadn't meant he'd be trampling her into the deck, but since he couldn't, he settled for locking his jaw and contradicting her in the sternest voice he possessed.

"You. Are. So."

Ginny has four brothers, a father, a stepfather and a mother who can manage all of them. She was not fazed.

"I. Am. Not."

Jack shook his head.

"Lass, there is no way I can let you do this."

Ginny snorted.

"There is no way you can prevent me from doing this. I mean, seriously, Jack. You aren't my father, or even my uncle or anything like that. I'm not a member of your crew, so it isn't like you can give me a direct order and honestly expect me to obey it. If you lock me up in some room I'll just break the window and jump out and swim to shore and meet up with you that way, so why not just spare yourselves the risk of discovery and bring me along now? It would be so much more practical."

Jack opened his mouth, all set to contradict her, but then her eyes met his and she arched an inviting eyebrow. She was quite prepared to browbeat him into the ground if it came down to that, and he could see she was fully capable of doing so, too.

He heaved a sigh.

"All right then, it appears that young Mr. Turner, the young lady and I are going ashore."

Ginny squealed, clapping her hands in delight. "Excellent!" she crowed, as Gibbs addressed Jack, his manner grave

"Captain! What if the worst should happen?"

Jack set his jaw. "Keep to the code," he instructed grimly, and Gibbs smiled, as if he had expected nothing less.

"Aye," he nodded, "the code."

Then the party of the three set off for the longboat, Ginny announcing, "I call shotgun!" as they went.

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Yeah, I know there's technically no shotgun in a longboat - or a shortboat either, I guess - of the eighteenth century, but we'll just let Ginny figure that out on her own, okay? In the meantime, while we wait for her to do so, how about you be the absolute darlings you've been all along and leave me a few reviews? I love the ones I've gotten so far- all of you guys are just the greatest! I don't know what I'd do without you- please, keep it up!


	14. Spelunking in the Caribbean

Wow, you guys just keep on blowing me right away! That a crazy bit of nothing like this would provoke such generous responses is one of those wonderful mysteries of the universe, I guess, that I probably shouldn't even try to explain- just be very grateful for.

I am also grateful that I HAVE remembered to tell you all I do not in any way, shape or form of the word own anything at all to do with this marvellous movie. Well, I do of course own this particular little fic, which I would like you to ask permission to use before you go ahead and do so, but otherwise nothing, and I'm not making any money off of this or anything, so forget about lawsuits and stuff, okay? Great. Thanks. The moths in my purse appreciate it.

Otherwise, I really haven't got much else to say, so on with the show!

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Have I mentioned yet that I am claustrophobic? No? Well, I am. And those dark, damp caves with their narrow, clammy walls did nothing to improve my condition. I was practically sitting in Pintel's lap by the time we made it to the landing site- a fact which I could see confused the fellow terribly, and one I was quick to remedy the second I was able to jump out of the boat.

While the others carted their riches about, tossing them onto the already towering heaps, Barbossa thrust Elizabeth towards the treasure chest itself. This left me sandwiched between Pintel and Ragetti yet once more as they crowed over their ill-gotten gains.

"Ten years of hoarding swag," Pintel reflected, and Ragetti finished jubilantly,

"And now we're finally getting to spend it!"

"Ever consider a real hobby?" I wondered conversationally, but they only gave me baleful looks in return, so I fell silent as they emptied the trunk they had and a bunch of sumptuous ladies' clothes fell out.

"Ooh!" I crooned. "Ooh, lovely . . ."

They, however, beat me to the pile of soft velvets and silks, swooping down to scoop up a parasol each. I blinked at them dubiously as they eyed the accessories with great longing, and Pintel comforted his friend.

"Once we're quit of the curse we'll be rich men. And you can buy an eye that actually fits, and is made of glass!"

Ragetti sniffled his self-pity as he rubbed at his own. "This one does splinter something terrible," he admitted, and Pintel sighed his exasperation.

"Stop rubbing it!" he scolded, just as the Bo'sun happened by. He took one look at the two of them and rolled his eyes in disgust. I had to nod my own agreement with his unspoken sentiment.

"Tell me about it," I muttered. "Tell me about it."

000

Meantime, Ginny, Will and Jack were all piled into the rowboat as they made their way along the same dark caverns Elizabeth and I had so recently travelled with our own hosts. Will grimaced at the sight of a skull, and as Ginny began to make rude faces at all of the skeletons she saw littering the stone ledges, Will turned to Jack and phrased a question.

"What code is Gibbs to keep to if the worst should happen?"

"Pirate's code," Jack said matter-of-factly. "Any man that falls behind . . . is left behind."

"Like this fellow here, right?" Ginny piped up, pointing to one skeleton with a rusted sword stuck through his ribcage. "That had to hurt. I mean, seriously. Can you imagine how that must have felt? Ouch."

"No heroes amongst thieves, eh?" Will muttered, ignoring her. Jack shrugged.

"You know," he observed, "for having such a bleak outlook on pirates, you're well on your way to becoming one." He began counting off Will's exploits of the past few days with admirable dispassion. "Sprung a man from jail, commandeered a ship of the Fleet, sailed with a buccaneer crew out of Tortuga . . ." He paused as Ginny and Will leaned over the edge of the boat to ogle the gold coins that littered the bottom of the narrow river, then leaned over to place his face between theirs as he finished, "and you're completely obsessed with treasure."

"That's not true," Will was offended as their boat scraped bottom and they all clambered out, dragging it up on shore. "I am not obsessed with treasure," he muttered, mostly to himself as he and Ginny followed Jack to where he stood peering outward through a sort of window cut in the rock. Jack glanced down at Will with a telling expression as he observed,

"Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate."

Barbossa was addressing the crowd with fervour as Will and Ginny joined Jack, and saw the object of Will's driven quest standing beside the pirate Captain.

"Gentlemen!" Barbossa crowed. "The time has come! Salvation is nigh! Our torment is near an end."

Will was not listening to the impassioned address, however- his eyes were locked on his own prize. "Elizabeth," he breathed, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Here we go again . . ."

I, meantime, was squirming between my captors as Barbossa ranted on and on- really, did the man ever stop talking?

"For ten years," he declared, "we've been tested and tried, and each man-jack of you here has proved his mettle a hundred times over- and a hundred times again!"

A rousing cheer went up from the crew, and Ragetti observed mournfully, "suffered, I have."

"Punished, we were," Barbossa went on, "the lot of us - disproportionate to our crime. Here it is!" he gave the stone chest a mighty kick, sending the weighty lid crashing down and revealing the dazzling pile of gold. "The cursed treasure of Cortés himself. Every last piece that went astray we have returned- save for this," he stabbed a filthy finger at the medallion that hung from Elizabeth's neck.

The pirates were too caught up to notice, but I was listening for it, and I heard it- Will's desperate whispered cry to Jack and the jingle of spilled coins. I saw the monkey turn his head in response to it, and cringed.

Jack, meantime, was hauling the eager beaver back in.

"Not yet," he scowled severely. "We wait for the opportune moment."

"When's that?" Will fired back, his whisper fierce and - Ginny says - incredibly sexy. "When it's of greatest profit to you?"

Jack was every inch the martyr as he attempted to reason with the trembling young man who stood before him

"May I ask you something?" he enquired patiently. "Have I ever given you reason not to trust me? Do us a favour," he went on, nodding to himself and Ginny. "I know it's difficult for you, but please- stay here . . . and try not to do anything stupid."

Then he slipped off, leaving Will and Ginny to exchange glances. Ginny shrugged innocently.

"Hey, don't look at me- this is between you two. I'm just here for the scenery."

Will nodded and started off after Jack. Ginny yelped and headed after him as fast as the slippery rocks and her squeaking sandals would permit.

000

Barbossa, in the interim, was working his way up to a frenzy. Jack slipped along the wall a bit to gain a better vantage point as his former first mate turned to Elizabeth and raised the knife.

"Begun by blood," he intoned impressively, "by blood undone."

It was then that Ginny's shoes squeaked. Jack turned around- only to get Will's oar flush in the face.

"Sorry, Jack," the young man said grimly to the fallen form, "I'm not going to be your leverage."

"Jack!" Ginny hissed as loud as she dared, sinking to his side and patting his cheek frantically. "Jack, hey, buddy, you gotta wake up and get out of here, you hear me? You just gotta. Come on, now- wakey-wakey. That's it- open your eyes, Jack- time to get up!"

As Ginny made frantic attempts at reviving Jack, the blood to be repaid was drawn from Elizabeth's hand, much to her surprise.

"That's it?" she stammered, and Barbossa gave her a smarmy grin.

"Waste not," he chuckled, and then forced her to drop the bloodied bauble into the chest with its fellows, and the whole lot of them basked in the anticipation of renewed mortality as Elizabeth staggered back, clutching her hand in shock.

At last one of the pirates who had shown up to visit Jack in prison, Koehler, could not take it any longer and demanded, "did it work?"

"I don't feel no different," Ragetti offered, worried, and Pintel wondered,

"How do we tell?"

Barbossa rolled his eyes, drew a lovely old pistol and shot Pintel square in the chest. I yelped and scrambled backward a bit, towards the edge of the crowd. Everybody was too busy waiting to see if Pintel was going to die to notice me, and once they realised he was alive, I was as good as forgotten.

"You're not dead," Koehler observed, and Pintel shook his head, unable to conceal his relieved delight.

"No!" he agreed happily- and then the awful truth struck him. His eyes narrowed in affront and he pointed at Barbossa. "He shot me!"

"It didn't work!" another pirate - Twigg, I believe - mourned. "The curse is still upon us!"

Barbossa whirled on Elizabeth, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her fiercely. "You, maid!" he demanded. "Your father, what was his name? Was your father William Turner?"

Elizabeth's smile was grimly satisfied. "No."

Barbossa, dissimilarly satisfied, kept at her. "Where's his child?" he wanted to know. "The child that sailed from England eight years ago- the child in whose veins flows the blood of William Turner. Where?"

Elizabeth, though, only offered a triumphant little smile, which didn't please his Captainness in the least, and indeed provoked him to backhand her so hard she went flying, coming to sprawl near the water, the medallion only a foot away from where she lay.

Then the accusations began.

"You two," the Bo'sun rumbled, turning on Pintel and Ragetti. "You brought us the wrong person!"

"No!" Pintel protested feebly. "She had the medallion- she's the proper age!"

"She said her name was Turner," Ragetti added, "you heard her!"

The yelling wore on and the tension mounted, so I took the opportunity to slip around to where the water lapped at the edge of the stone, and reluctantly lowered myself and my ruined gown into the chilly, salty depths. As I did so I was able to offer a little wave to Will, who was also swimming about. He saw me, recognised me, nodded, and beckoned me over to his side. I was swift to obey, bobbing up beside him just as he clapped his hand over Elizabeth's mouth to keep her from crying out at the sight of us. He put a finger to his lips in silent instruction and she nodded obediently, reached for the medallion, and joined us in our salt bath. Then the three of us slipped off, back to the boats in time to miss Koehler's fierce declaration.

"I say we cut her throat and spill _all_ her blood- just in case."

There was general consensus to this, but we had already launched the boat, loaded with the pirates' oars, and were well on our way down the caverns toward the open sea and the _Interceptor_.

Then, of course, Barbossa saw his filthy old monkey pointing in the direction we had headed off, noticed at last that I was not amongst them any longer, and turned to the pirates to shout in panic,

"The medallion! She's taken it! Both of the girls- they're gone!"

Everybody broke out shouting, but their Captain's voice rose above their own as he roared, "well, after them, you pack of ingrates!"

The crew stampeded to obey, but it was not long before the Bo'sun made another discovery.

"The oars have gone missing. Find them!"

In the meantime, Ginny had finally been able to rouse Jack and helped him stagger to his feet. They headed for the boats as fast as she could carry him, only to bump into a knot of pirates. Pintel gaped, and then was the first to voice their shock.

"You!" he pointed. "You're supposed to be dead!"

Jack's face melted into a frown of confusion. "Am I not?" he peered down at himself, then looked over to Ginny, bewildered. "Am I not?" he repeated, and she shook her head. His frown deepened. "Hmm," he murmured, turning about unsteadily only to find about a dozen pistols levelled at both of them.

He frowned yet harder and concentrated on making his tongue work.

"Puh . . . luley," he tried. No, that wasn't it . . . "Puhlulehvoos, parleli, parsmi, pasley, parle, parle . . ."

Ginny held him up supportively as best she could as he tried to puzzle it out, until at last Ragetti figured out what word Jack could very well be searching for, and volunteered helpfully, "parley?"

"Parley!" Jack cried jubilantly. "That's the one. Parley! Parley!"

"Me, too," Ginny offered, at which point Pintel shot Ragetti a look that could have curdled milk.

"Parley?" he snarled. "Down to the depths whatever muttonhead thought up parley!"

Jack leaned in with a conspiratorial look on his face.

"That would be the French," he confided, then nodded to Ginny. "All right, love, let's be moving along . . ."

So with pirates all around them, Ginny and Jack were taken to Captain Barbossa.

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All right, that's it for this chap, but I'll be back before much longer with a little more. We're just getting to the good part- I wouldn't dream of abandoning it now! I hope you won't, either- your reviews have kept me writing, and I very much appreciate each and every one of them. Please, keep it up!


	15. A captain's negotiations and my corset e...

I still can't get over the fact that you guys have been so sweet to me- that, of course, and the fact that this fic is actually almost done! Well . . . okay, maybe there's a bit left to go, but still- it's come quite a ways, you must admit! Especially considering I'm now right in the thick of exams, which are evil . . .

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It was rather fun, really, leaving the pirates' oars bobbing in the tide in our wake as we rowed out to the _Interceptor_. At least, I found they made a rather satisfying splash when chucked overboard.

Elizabeth, however, took less delight in such simple pleasures, clinging to Will as we were helped up on board. She took one look at the assembled crew and couldn't restrain a little moan of dismay.

"Not more pirates . . ."

Gibbs kindly chose to disregard this slur on his worth and greeted her as well as any gentleman would have.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Elizabeth," he observed, and her dismay gave way to bewilderment.

"Mr. Gibbs?" she frowned, but Mr. Gibbs was already turning to address Will as Cotton lowered his hand to help me scramble aboard as well.

"Hey, boy!" Gibbs greeted Will. "Where be Jack?"

Elizabeth's bewilderment grew with each passing second.

"Jack? Jack Sparrow?"

Will did not answer Elizabeth, but his eyes flickered down as his face closed over.

"He fell behind," he murmured, then steered Elizabeth away. I busied myself with wringing out my sodden skirts, still dripping from my little swim in the caves, as Gibbs's jaw worked for a second before he managed to order the crew,

"Keep to the code."

People must have looked too uncertain about this for Anamaria's liking, because she immediately started tossing orders about like so many old newspapers.

"Weigh anchor!" she roared, "Hoist the sails! Make quickly . . ."

She went on and on about it, but I didn't bother paying much attention to her, instead setting off after Will and Elizabeth.

It took me a minute or two to locate them, since I first checked the hold, and found they were not yet in residence there. Eventually, though, I located a smallish stateroom where Elizabeth was busy wringing out her skirts and hunting for a bandage for her hand, and Will was searching for candles. Busy though they were, they both paused in their respective quests to look up and greet me. I returned the greeting before addressing Will.

"I was just wondering where Ginny is," I admitted. "Is she staying in one of the cabins?"

Will's face closed over still more.

"I-" he swallowed. "She- she's not here. When Jack and I were going to- to land, she insisted on being allowed to come along. We took her, and she- she fell behind, too."

My eyes widened.

"She fell- you mean, you _left_ her there!"

Will looked distinctly uncomfortable, and I threw up my hands with a shriek of rage.

"I don't believe this! You- you just . . . she's a girl! She's not a pirate or a soldier or even a sailor! She can't even hold a knife properly! I can't believe that you just left her there to be-"

I broke off, growled my impotent fury, and then spun around to head back out on deck before I did something I would later - possibly - regret.

000

Ginny, meantime, was sticking awfully close to Jack. I privately believe she was glad of an excuse to do so, but I guess that if you're surrounded by a whole bunch of undead pirates you really have got an excellent excuse for being a touch clingy.

Barbossa had been sent for, and in very short order the pair of them were granted an audience with the Captain himself. He ignored Ginny, his eyes fixated on Jack. At last he managed a question.

"How the blazes did you get off that island?"

Jack, considerably more coherent than he had been a minute or two ago, rested partially on Ginny and partially on the oar he held as he answered the question just as casually as if he were in the front parlour of a fine home, making polite conversation.

"When you marooned me on that Godforsaken spit of land," he explained engagingly, "you forgot one very important thing, Mate." He spread his hands slightly and smiled charmingly. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Ah, well," Barbossa shrugged, "I won't be making that mistake again." He turned to encompass the crew in his next address. "Gents, you'll remember Captain Jack Sparrow," he decided. "Kill him. And his little friend, too."

There was all at once a simultaneous production of weapons, all of which were levelled at Ginny, who yelped and shrank closer to Jack, and Jack, who did not appear concerned in the least about what appeared to be his imminent fate. Instead, he tipped his head to the side and addressed Barbossa's retreating back in a casual fashion.

"The girl's blood didn't work, did it?" he mused. Barbossa stopped and ordered,

"Hold your fire!"

There was a collective grumbling as the pistols were reluctantly lowered, and Barbossa turned to regard their captive once more.

"You know whose blood we need," he guessed, and Jack's smile was one of quiet self-satisfaction.

"I know whose blood you need."

000

Back on the _Interceptor_, I didn't allow myself to admire the ship, which was in so many ways a much finer one than the _Pearl_, or to even feel relief that we were putting so much distance between the cave and ourselves. This was partly because I knew the pirates were going to catch up anyway, and partly because I was frightened that for some reason or other, Ginny wouldn't be alive when they did.

Anamaria, seeing my obvious agitation, took pity on me and directed me to the captain's quarters. They were unoccupied, of course, since their captain was currently negotiating the return of the _Pearl_ in exchange for Will's name, though of course the pirates didn't know it was Will's name they were going to get, and I was quick to accept. Once she had left me to my own devices in the exquisitely furnished room, I sank onto the lovely old bed, trying to force myself to close my eyes and get some sleep.

I was less than successful, though, likely due to my current mental state and the circumstances in general - these including the restricting piece of clothing I was still wearing bound about my torso - and so was still tossing and turning when there came a light tap on the door. I mumbled an invitation and Elizabeth obliged, opening the door and slipping in. She flashed me a quick smile of apology for intruding, then explained,

"My hand is cut . . . I'm looking for something that I might to use to make a bandage."

I nodded, sitting up and then gasping as the whalebone dug into my own ribs. She was immediately concerned, and wondered, "is something wrong?"

"Oh, just this stupid thing," I grimaced, tapping on my side. "Corset. I'm not used to it."

"Ahh," she sighed, nodding. "I understand . . . just be thankful you haven't one of the newer modes."

I blinked, puzzled.

"The- what?"

"The new mode; the new fashion. My father," she grimaced, "kindly took it upon himself to order one of the latest styles from London for me, and the waist is what you might call impossible. Apparently they mean for us to disappear altogether around the midsection . . . it used to be that one needed lace one's undergarments only enough to give a lady a little . . ." she blushed slightly, "a little shape. I was accustomed to that, at least, but if you are not, it would likely be very painful- may I help you loosen it?"

I shook my head dismally.

"I'd never fit into this dress if you did. This waist has got to be twenty inches around- at least, it feels like it, anyway."

Elizabeth smiled and nodded.

"All right, then, but so allow me to show you something, won't you? Can you fit your hand in through- there, yes," she nodded, guiding my fingers to my waist. "Can you feel that? The stay, right there?"

I could, and nodded.

"Good. Now, pull it out."

I blinked at her, surprised, but she nodded.

"It comes out. Just pull down on it."

I did, somewhat uncertainly, and was surprised to find that she was right- the entire stay slid out into my hand, a smooth arc of bone that was oddly sharp at one end. I eyed the point in bewilderment, and Elizabeth explained it to me.

"It's a lady's dagger, of a sort. All of them can come out, and they're a handy form of protection if you are ever in the need of such a thing."

I was pleased at the discovery, and with a little help was able to slip it back into the garment, painful though the resulting restriction was.

"Now," Elizabeth smiled, "I think I had best warn you that if you go pitching headfirst into the sea because you find you cannot breathe, I shan't be the best person to ask for help in rescuing you." She began prowling about the cabin in search of bandage material, and mused as she did,

"Odd, really- this whole mess is my father's fault. If he had not given me that gown . . ."

I found the reflection an amusing one- made all the more so by the truth of it. If Governor Swann had not bought Elizabeth that gown, she never would have laced herself tightly enough to have fallen off the parapet, the medallion would never have summoned the pirates, and I would not be sitting on a soft bed wearing whalebones tied to my waist, trying to breathe in a normal fashion and help Elizabeth think of a place to look for bandaging materials.

I realised I would not find it difficult at all to develop an intense dislike of Governor Swann. Men should keep their fashion advice to themselves, if this was all the good it was going to do us.

It was then that it occurred to Elizabeth to rip a section off of one of the lovely sheets on the bed. It took the two of us to manage, since the material was rather finely woven, but once we had done so she thanked me and excused herself to join Will in the hold, leaving me to try to get to sleep.

It wasn't easy, I'll admit, but for some reason the talk had helped relax me, and I was able to breathe just well enough to drift of into sweet oblivion . . . until the sound of shouting woke me up once more.

000

Ginny, unlike myself, was in no position to even consider getting any sleep. She was closeted with Jack and Barbossa in Barbossa's - or was it Jack's, since the _Pearl_ was rightfully his, and had only been stolen from him by Barbossa? - cabin, standing as far back in the corner as she could, watching Jack mosey around the place, admiring it, while Barbossa sat and addressed him in painfully sceptical tones.

"So you expect," he frowned, "to leave me standing on some beach with nothing but a name and your word it's the one I need and watch you sail away on my ship?"

"No," Jack corrected him patiently, "I expect to leave you standing on some beach with absolutely no name at all, watching me sail away on _my_ ship, and then I'll shout the name back to you."

It seemed like a decent plan to Ginny, but Barbossa expressed doubts.

"But that still leaves us the problem," he reflected, "of me standing on some beach with naught but a name and your word it's the one I need."

If Jack was exceptionally insulted by Barbossa's failure to trust him, he hid it well. Instead, he offered a gentle reminder.

"Of the two of us," he pointed out, "I am the only one who hasn't committed mutiny. Therefore," he concluded, "my word is the one we'll be trusting. Although, I suppose I should be thanking you because in fact, if you hadn't betrayed me and left me to die, I would have an equal share in that curse, same as you." He smiled at the apple he held and took a deep bite of it before musing, "Funny ol' world, innit?"

Barbossa managed an odd, unamused little smile and nod. Jack nodded reflectively as well, then glanced at the fruit he held. It occurred him to offer it to Barbossa, but before Barbossa could react, the Bo'sun entered and addressed him.

"Captain, we're coming up on the _Interceptor_."

At this announcement, Barbossa's mangy monkey scampered over Jack's lap, making him jump a bit. Ginny smothered a grin, and the whole lot of them moved out onto the deck, where Ginny stood uncertainly, waiting to see what would happen next. Jack ran over to the railing, hung onto the rigging and took a look at the _Interceptor_. Then he hurried up the stairs to address the pirate Captain, Ginny following close behind. She watched as Jack inserted himself in front of Barbossa's telescope and addressed him conversationally.

"I'm having a thought, here, Barbossa," he explained. "What say we run up a flag of truce, I scurry over to the _Interceptor_, and negotiate the return of your medallion, aye? What say you to that?"

Barbossa gave him a condescending grin. "Now you see, Jack," he observed, "that's exactly the attitude that lost you the _Pearl_. People are easy to search when they're dead."

Jack's expression sobered as Barbossa gestured at him and Ginny, and issued an order. "Lock them in the brig."

Their arms were seized and they were hustled away, but not before Ginny saw Barbossa give Jack's apple a disgusted glance before whipping back his arm and throwing it far out into the ocean.

Then it vanished from sight, and, dragged down below decks, so did they.

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Another chap completed, and all thanks to you wonderful reviewers, who keep me writing- and to Ginny in particular, of course, who is the only reason that this thing ever got started in the first place.

Thanks are also due to Morgan, without whom I never would have remembered to elaborate on the corset confusion. Other readers may have noticed what she saw- that it would be unlikely Ginny and I would be able to find "the latest thing in London" on a clothes line other than the Governor's. So after chatting with her, and having her point that out to me, I realised I should explain.

The gown Elizabeth got was likely one of the ones coming into fashion later in the century, meant to be worn with the newer corsets of the time. Not only was the style of the late eighteenth century incredibly unhealthy for women, but the corsets also featured a profusion of heavy stays that had not been common in the earlier styles. Hence the reason she was likely so affected by it- it was a much more restrictive style, and it was this one that caused more health problems with women, rather than the earlier types, which sported fewer stays that were, in fact, removable. Yes, the trick Elizabeth showed me in this chapter, of removing the whalebone stay, was also one that was common to the day. People really did sharpen the bone stays so ladies could use them as concealed weapons of a sort, just in case the need should ever arise for them to defend their virtue against some passing villain! I'm honestly not sure how easy they were to pull free, but for my own purposes I made it simple. I figure a weapon it takes ages to pull out wouldn't be very effective at all, so I opted for feasibility. I just hope it's accurate.

Now, won't you all be loves . . ? Thanks to all of you who already have, too! You guys are the bestest!


	16. Conversations in the brig and me in a ti...

Thank you time and time again for your words of encouragement. They really do encourage me, believe it or not, and I appreciate so much that people are taking the time to give them. I also appreciate the fact that although this particular fic is mine, the movie is not, and therefore many of the lines in this are not, either, but rather belong to Disney. Of course, they're the ones actually making money off of this, not me. I'm not making any money from this, though to tell you the truth I almost wish I was because quite frankly, I have none to spare. So forget about suing me, okay? It would be a waste of your time and mine.

Reading, though, and reviewing would not be a waste of your time, or mine, so please be so good as to do both. Enjoy!

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I stumbled out onto the deck about the same time as Elizabeth, and as I stood there, shading my eyes from the unexpected brilliance of midday and blinking stupidly, she gathered up her skirts and headed up to the bridge where Gibbs was hollering order left, right and centre.

"What's happening?" she called, and Anamaria's answer was terse and to the point.

"The _Black Pearl_. She's gaining on us."

I wandered over in their general direction as Elizabeth, tones starkly disbelieving, exclaimed, "this is the fastest ship in the Caribbean!"

Anamaria, distinctly unimpressed, shrugged. "You can tell them that after they've caught us," she informed the bewildered young woman, her jaw set.

Elizabeth frowned, apparently thinking hard. Then she looked back up at Anamaria and demanded breathlessly, "we're shallow on the draft, right?"

Now it was Anamaria's turn to look bewildered. "Aye."

"Well then," Elizabeth pointed, "can't we lose them amongst those shoals?"

Gibbs was enthusiastic about this plan. "We don't have to outrun them long," he exulted, "just long enough!"

"Lighten the ship!" Anamaria roared. "Stem to stern!"

Gibbs turned to the crew as well, and ordered, "anything that we can afford to lose, see that it's lost!"

This was when I finally made it to the bridge as well, having been considerably hampered by the fact that I first had to contend with a barrel that somebody had forgotten to tie down properly and which had nearly knocked me overboard. Even though my arrival went relatively unnoticed in the face of the imminent threat, I still smiled politely at all those assembled there, and then made a disgusted face as I realised belatedly that I was barefoot. I had taken my sandals off to lie down on the bed, and had apparently left them in the cabin.

"This," I scowled, "is what comes of not getting enough sleep each night. You do stupid things the next day."

Then I turned and made my barefoot way back to the cabin, grumbling under my breath the whole way.

000

It took me a disconcertingly long time to find my sandals once I had arrived. One was right where I had left it, but the other was nowhere to be found, and it was this elusive piece of footwear that would pose troublesome. I had been sure I had taken my sandals off just before I lay down on the bed, but an inspection of the floor around it revealed absolutely nothing in the way of footwear. I tried to get down on my knees to peer under the bed but was hampered by the profusion of skirts, so I decided to inspect the entire cabin before I returned to look under the bed itself.

I might have known I wouldn't find anything, but it certainly occupied my time until at last I returned to study the bed with some misgivings. I checked the door to make sure it was bolted, and then hiked my skirts up all the way around my waist before settling down on my stomach and the abundance of fabric to squint under the bed into the murky shadows that lurked there.

At first I saw nothing at all, but I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim recesses and at last made out the shape of my own sandal, tucked back in a far corner. I groaned, and cringed at the task that lay before me. Remember how I told you that I was claustrophobic? No? Well believe me, I am. I had recurring nightmares as a child about coal mines - I grew up in rural Nova Scotia, so I suppose it was either going to be coal mines, sugar woods, fishing boats or blueberry fields - and snow tunnels were the bane of my playground existence each and every winter.

But that was my sandal in there, and believe you me, walking around on the decks of a pirate ship - okay, a naval ship that had been commandeered by a buccaneer crew - in bare feet is a very bad idea. Especially when, as I may already have mentioned, your fear of needles prevented you from updating your tetanus shot a year before.

So despite my complete and total aversion to having anything to do with that grimy, tiny cubbyhole that held my sandal, as I saw it, I didn't have much of a choice. Instead, I took a deep breath of semi-fresh cabin air and pressed my way forward, squirming and squeezing in an attempt to forward into the excruciatingly tight space under the bed to swipe desperately for my errant shoe.

True to its generally stubborn nature, however, it insisted on remaining just beyond my grasp, so I struggled in still further, nearly suffocating myself in the stuffy nook with the combined strain on my lungs resulting from the corset I wore and the bed pressing down on my spine. At long last I managed to hook one finger around a leather strap, and had I not been so literally pressed for breath, I don't doubt I would have shouted in triumph. As it was, however, I settled for a pleased little gasp and then began to squirm my way backward . . . and got stuck halfway out.

I blinked in dismay, and fought every instinct within me that screamed at me to panic for all I was worth.

Okay, so I was in a bit of a sticky spot. Surely people would eventually notice my absence, come looking for me, and find me under the bed . . . with my skirt hiked up around my waist. I paled, and began to struggle in earnest.

It was working, too- I think there's something about sheer panic that really energises a person. I felt the tension about my waist begin to lessen ever-so-slightly, and struggled all the harder as a result, pressing my palms against the dusty floor in order to generate enough leverage to push myself backward.

I wasn't making anything excessive in the way of progress, but at least I was moving a bit, so I was fully prepared to keep it up as long as necessary- except before I could finish getting free, it happened.

Without any warning whatsoever, the ship gave a sudden lurch, heave, and my world turned upside down. I gasped and screamed, feeling decidedly ill as the whole floor dipped and slanted beneath me, taking me on a dizzying about-face that reminded me all too much of my one and only experience on a Tilt-a-Whirl, which nearly ended with me losing my cotton candy all over the friends who had forced me on the darn thing in the first place. Now I wished heartily for two things- one, that Ginny had been there with me, and two, that I had not already been seasick enough the night before to deprive my stomach of the ammunition that would have at least partially settled the score with my friend for dragging me on this particular ride that, in my opinion, could not possibly end soon enough.

While the ship lurched, rocked, and finally began to slowly settle in its course, I closed my eyes and willed my own stomach to stop churning. It seemed at first decidedly disinclined to listen, but at last I did think - or at least I hoped I thought - I felt it settling down. I closed my eyes in gratitude, and was in fact on the very verge of being relieved . . . and then the shooting started.

000

Almost from the moment of their imprisonment belowdecks in the _Black Pearl_, Ginny had been quite alone with Captain Jack Sparrow. They had been escorted down to the brig by a pair of surly-looking characters, and showed roughly into a pair of separate cells.

Jack frowned in distaste at the ankle-deep water, observing, "apparently there's a leak."

They ignored him and left the pair alone, allowing Ginny to make an observation of her own.

"You remind me of An sometimes, you know that? Only I think she would have demanded another cell."

(She's right, I would have).

Jack arched an eyebrow. "And a lot of good that would have done her, too."

Ginny shrugged. "I suppose so, but sometimes she can be more stubborn than smart." She looked around them in mild dismay. "What is it about you and me and jail cells, anyway?" she wanted to know. "Though don't tell An I was complaining cause she'd say I knew it all ahead of time so I had it coming."

"Are you and your friend very close then, luv?" Jack wanted to know.

"Oh, we're good friends and all, I guess, sure. We're really different a lot of the time, but we're still friends."

"Different how?" Jack wondered lazily, his eyes roaming around every square inch of the cell as if seeking a weak spot. Ginny, leaning gingerly up against what appeared to be the driest corner, shrugged and explained.

"Well, this stuff for example. This whole chaotic kidnapped on the high seas stuff. She writes it, and she does okay at it, too, but I bet she's hating it right now, because she's probably filthy and smells bad. She'd hate that. She wouldn't have minded it half as much if she'd gotten to stay someplace nice, I bet - she'd probably even know how to act if she had - but right now she's probably miserable."

(She's right, I was).

Jack nodded thoughtfully, apparently concluding that there was to be no immediate escape from his prison before settling down into his watery carpet. "And you? What do you think of all this?"

"Oh, I'm having fun," Ginny observed brightly. "I always did want to be a pirate. Do you know my ancestors were privateers?"

Jack appeared mildly impressed.

"Oh they were, were they? Well then, that explains that, doesn't it? It's in your blood, after all. And what about this friend of yours? No piracy in her background, then, I suppose, is there?"

Ginny considered. "No, but I think there's a baronet. And there's a lot of knights. And some Puritans. That actually might explain a lot," she admitted, and Jack shook his head.

"Landlords of that type is some of the worst pirates there is at times. Believe me you, luv, there's things I've seen could turn that lovely golden hair of yours snow white overnight. But perhaps it's not so inherent, as it were, as piracy is. So how is it that you never acted on these impulses of yours before now, lass? I'd have thought that the call of the sea would be nigh impossible to resist for anybody who has it in the blood, so to speak."

Ginny pouted. "My mother wants me to go to University instead," she sighed. "Really, I just don't see the point."

Jack was puzzled. "Well a higher education has its fine points to be sure, but I know of no institution that would admit a lass, much less a lady, for education."

Ginny smiled. "A lot's happened since you were looking at them last, I bet. Anyway," she shifted her weight a bit, "it doesn't look like I'll be checking into the dorms on time after all, if we don't get out of here."

Jack nodded his sympathy and seemed about to reply when there came a sudden terrific volley of cannon fire from what seemed like very close by. Ginny let out an involuntary yelp of surprise, and Jack went to peek through a chink in the wood.

"It's the _Interceptor_," he announced. "She's come about side us and they're raking each other from- get down, lass!"

Ginny obeyed, flinging herself face down into the scummy water, trying not to open her mouth. When she did peek up, Jack was shaking his fist belligerently at the gaping hole in the side of the _Black Pearl_ and roaring at the crew of the _Interceptor_, "stop blowing 'oles in my ship!"

He then turned to fish amongst the debris and located Gibbs's flask, which he discovered was empty just as Ginny registered the latest turn of events, and hastened to point it out to him.

"Jack!" she gasped, scrambling her sodden way to her feet, "Jack, look, your door- look, you can get out!"

Jack did an about-face, and blinked at the smoking lock with almost comical surprise. He crossed quickly to push it open, but then stopped, looking over at Ginny with concern. She was still stuck in her cell.

"I don't like to leave you, lass."

She gave him a forced smile and shrugged. "Don't feel bad about it. Trust me- I won't be alone for long anyway."

He still seemed reluctant, but Ginny kept badgering at him to leave until he finally realised she wasn't just being polite, and that this was what she truly did want him to do. So, much as he was so obviously reluctant to do so, Captain Jack Sparrow removed his hat, executed a sweeping bow to a highly amused and rather pink-cheeked Miss Tingley, then turned his back on her, and headed up the stairs.

000

Once I had recovered from the shock of hearing the cannon fire, I redoubled my efforts to free myself from the restrictive prison of the bed in the captain's staterooms. It took me longer than I care to remember now, but the end result was that I did at last emerge from the musty, dusty nook, sandal clutched in hand. I replaced it on my foot, and then promptly set about straightening my hair and dress.

Okay, so maybe it was superficial of me to do that, but I knew exactly what was going on out on the decks and I knew where I was eventually going to end up, and when I did, I wanted to be as modestly-presented as possible. I didn't need a lot of pirates getting any untoward ideas about me just because I was a little dishevelled when I arrived on board.

My outfit finally made, if not entirely presentable, at least not entirely indecent, I headed for the door and out onto the deck, straight into what was possibly the most chaotic situation I had ever seen, save perhaps for Boxing Day at the mall.

I blinked as I looked all around me, stunned by the utter pandemonium. I was just in time to see the mast come crashing down, sealing Will belowdecks. Determined to see if there was anything I could do to assist him I gathered up my skirts and headed in his direction, keeping one hand on the sharpened stay Elizabeth had showed me how to pull free, just in case I should happen to require it.

Before I could make it to where Will was trapped, however, an interesting sight caught my eye. This was the sight of Captain Jack Sparrow, alighting on a pirate by way of a rope strung across from the attacking ship. Gibbs was obviously surprised at the sudden appearance of his Captain, judging by the expression on his grimy face and the tone in which he gasped,

"Jack!"

Jack frowned, handing his mate the flask that had been blasted over at the _Pearl _some time before with the disgruntled observation, "bloody empty."

Gibbs blinked his bewilderment as Jack wandered off, looked around, and laid eyes on me.

Okay, I suppose I did rather stick out in the midst of the battle- my gown, though far from the soft, creamy hue it had been when I first put it on, was still a good deal lighter in colour, not to mention cleaner, than the garments worn by those around me. That, and all the others were actively engaged in some form of physical combat or other, and I was just standing there, peering around me, no doubt looking about as dazed and bewildered as I felt. Jack smiled, doffed his hat to me, and wandered over as if he hadn't a care in the world, skirting a grappling pair of pirates as he made his way to where I stood.

"I beg your pardon," he observed, the polite words a severe contrast to the accents in which he spoke them, "but have we met before, love?"

I blinked at him, and with considerable effort found my tongue.

"Well, yes, I suppose- sort of. Rather. Not quite. I'm Virginia's friend . . . I'm guessing you know her a bit better than you do me. So no. We haven't really . . . officially met."

He nodded. "Well I suppose, seeing as we seem to have a mutual acquaintance, that we ought to remedy that, don't you think?" He stuck out a grimy, long-nailed hand. "Cap'n Jack Sparrow."

I nodded, if not warmly, then at least, I hope, civilly.

"I know who you are, Captain," I informed him, and then took his hand in mine, and, seeing as we were going all civilised in the midst of the scrimmage, gamely swept a deep curtsey (ballet classes are good for something after all). "Andrea Horton. But seeing as everybody else around here seems to be following Ginny's lead anyway, you may call me An."

"A pleasure, Miss Horton- An," he decided, then peered about him. "Bit of a disturbance here, then, I see . . ."

"Yes, I- oh!" I must have went as white as rice paper as I pointed a trembling finger at what I was seeing that so alarmed me- Elizabeth, in the grip of a grimy pirate who was raising his sword above her, preparing to bring down a fatal blow.

With a hasty "do forgive me, love," tossed over his shoulder, Jack sprang away from me, coming to land behind the pirate, whose sword hand he captured in one of his own with a grave reprimand. "That's not very nice," he frowned, affording Elizabeth the opportunity to club the brute under his chin and render him quite powerless against them. Then Jack, doubtless feeling very good about his chances in civilised company after his chat with me, addressed Elizabeth without preamble.

"Where's the medallion?"

Elizabeth, who'd had far better training in her formative years than I, knew that this was not the proper way to open a polite conversation, and attempted to tell him so with the flat of her hand.

"Wretch!" she cried, and Jack, his reflexes honed after all of the assaults he had received in Tortuga, captured her wrist just in time to prevent it from making contact with his grimy cheek. He frowned disapprovingly at her, no doubt trying to determine where he had gone wrong, when his eyes fell on the bandage wrapped around her palm, and took on a new, understanding light.

"Ahh," he purred, turning his attentions back to her face, "where's dear William?"

With this new topic to focus on, Elizabeth was suddenly ashen. "Will . . ." she breathed, and her eyes flew over to the same spot as mine did- the entryway to the hold, barred off by the fallen mast. She tore free from Jack and bolted over to fling herself face down on top of the grate.

"Will!" she screamed, and I couldn't help but feel terrible for both of them as his anguished reply rose up in response to her own cry of horror.

"Elizabeth!"

Jack, meantime, had goals of his own. His gaze fell on Jack the monkey, who was scampering over to the _Black Pearl_. His eyes widened.

"Monkey!"

I stood there and was torn between tears and laughter as Elizabeth frantically informed her beloved that the mast and grate would not budge, and Jack followed Jack the monkey across to the _Pearl_ in a fashion that was distinctly primeval itself.

I settled for laughing until tears rolled down my cheeks, and chaos continued around me. I heard Elizabeth's screams as she was dragged away from the entrance to the hold, and Will's terrified, fruitless call to her. I saw the crew of the _Interceptor_ overpowered by the crew of the _Pearl_, just as I had known they would be, and was myself roughly handled over to the victorious ship. I was shoved up against the mast as Barbossa proclaimed their hope was restored . . . and still, I just couldn't stop laughing.

But what can I say? Sometimes my timing just really, really sucks.

000

000

One more down, several more to go. But not too many more- it's kind of maybe almost done! Yay! Isn't that fun?

It would also, I think, be very nice if you would be so kind as to take the time to tell me what you thought of the fic. Even though I enjoy writing it, I am more than a little embarrassed to actually be putting it out here for public consumption so it means even more to me to know people are enjoying reading it. So why not be a doll and let me know? And a huge thank you to the many who have already done so- you're all so wonderful!


	17. Diving into the deep

Phew, it's really actually getting written! I can't believe it! Slogging through the close of my second semester, tearing out my hair to get papers in and exams studied for, and I'm still trying to write this fic. You would let me know if I was wasting my time, wouldn't you? Of course you would . . .

I know, though, that time spent making disclaimers is never wasted, so here I go. This movie was brilliant, I adored it and I eagerly anticipate the sequels, but I will not be working on them, just as I did not work on the first film, because know something? I have no official involvement with this film at all. I love it dearly, but I make no money off of it, and neither do I make any money off of this fic. I enjoy writing it, and have such fun writing my friend (Ginny, by the way, loves that you guys love her. She told me so- she says it's the biggest ego boost she's ever had, so I urge you to keep it up) but I make no money off of it. So forget about suing me, cause I haven't got anything to give.

I would, though, love to get something from you- reviews! They rock my world, and Ginny loves to read them too (especially the ones with stuff about her in them. And I think she wants to adopt everybody who says she should end up with Jack) so please, whatever you do, don't slack off on giving them!

000

000

Okay, so I did eventually stop laughing. I stopped just as Elizabeth pulled free and rushed Barbossa, because in so doing she accidentally elbowed me right in my corseted gut, knocking all the wind out of me and rendering me breathless, as well as laughless. So while I doubled over gasping and attempted to regain my daily-recommended dose of oxygen, Elizabeth charged Barbossa and then stopped dead at the horrifying sight of the _Interceptor_ shooting sky high in the form of several hundred million individual splinters of wood. The sight was enough to unsettle anybody, I suppose, but for a young woman who thinks that it means she's just lost the rather adorable English blacksmith she so adored, it was well nigh unbearable.

She launched herself at Barbossa with a scream of fury, and if it hadn't been so sad - the poor thing being so outnumbered, and all - it might almost have been funny. As it was, though, the amused Barbossa rendered her quite helpless with next to no visible effort.

"Welcome back, Miss," he purred as she struggled. "You took advantage of our hospitality the last time. It holds fair now that you return the favour."

He gave her a shove that sent her spinning into the midst of the crew just as I recovered my breath, and straightened up to find that Pintel and Ragetti had somehow missed me in the process of binding the crew, and that I was quite unhampered by the restraints of common nautical rope. Delighted by this find, I took a quick couple of steps toward Elizabeth before it occurred to me to hesitate. Yes, I was free, but what good would it do me given my current circumstances? Indeed, what good would it do her? What could I possibly do to help her?

As I debated this, Barbossa caught sight of me standing there, frowned, and reached out to catch me by the arm before I could figure out just what good being a rather small girl hampered by skirts and corsets in the midst of a plentiful pirate crew would do me.

"You again," he observed. "You wanting to join your friend, Miss?"

I knew enough to keep silent. There wasn't, in truth, much I could do to help her anyway, and I knew she would be all right because Will, of course, was going to show up any second, see her screaming and twisting in the unfriendly grip of the pirates, and-

"Barbossa!"

Really, he's very prompt.

Elizabeth, though, looked as if she cared less about her love's punctuality than she did about his very presence, which goes to show you that she was really in love- anybody else would surely have complimented him on his timing, first, right?

"Will," she breathed, and Will barely acknowledged the greeting of sorts before addressing Barbossa as he levelled a pistol right at him- and me, of course, since I was standing right there. I swallowed. I did so hope he was a decent shot.

"She goes free," he growled, and Barbossa gave me a puzzled look, as if he was wondering if it was I whom Will meant. This prompted me to shake my head, and then nod in Elizabeth's direction. Barbossa's expression cleared.

"Ahh." He turned to address Will. "What's in your head, boy?"

This seemed to agitate the blacksmith. "She goes free!" he repeated, and Barbossa assumed an air of bewilderment.

"You've only got one shot," he observed, "and we can't die."

_Yes,_ I agreed silently, _but I can, and he's pointing that pistol at the both of us, so please, pretty please, don't get him upset enough to actually shoot._

Jack, meantime, voiced his opinion of Will's inability to bring the situation to a peaceful resolution by his whispered plea. "Don't do anything stupid . . ."

Will, doubtless spurred on by this lack of faith, leaped up onto the railing. "You can't," he agreed, then lodged the pistol under his jaw before concluding, "I can."

Jack appeared disappointed that his warnings had gone unheeded.

"Like that," he sighed.

Barbossa gave Jack a querulous glance, then looked back to Will with a frown. "Who are you?" he wanted to know, and Jack sprang into action, scurrying over to dance about in front of us, gesturing effusively with bound hands as if in an attempt to divert attention from Will.

"No one. He's no one," he assured Barbossa eagerly, shooting me an inclusive glance as he did so. "A . . . distant cousin of my aunt's nephew . . . twice removed. Lovely singing voice, though," Jack's tone dipped in a conspiratorial manner. "Eunuch."

Will, however, was having none of this, and his own tones rang out in clear, uncompromising refutal of Jack's attempt to downplay his identity. "My name is Will Turner," he announced. "My father was Bootstrap Bill Turner. His blood runs in my veins."

There were gasps throughout the crew as the veracity of this statement hit them all, and Ragetti seemed particularly affected.

"He's a spittin' image of ol' Bootstrap Bill, come back to haunt us!" he moaned.

"On my word," Will vowed, "do as I say, or I'll pull this trigger and be lost to Davy Jones' Locker."

Barbossa, clearly unwilling to have this happen, curled his lip and grudgingly invited him to name his terms. Will, anxious to get the most important fact straight, blurted out, "Elizabeth goes free!"

Barbossa, clearly having little patience with repetition, sighed. "Yes, we know that one. Anything else?"

Jack, making little gestures, caught Will's attention, prompting him to gesture briefly with the pistol before returning it to his jawbone, adding earnestly, "And the crew; the crew are not to be harmed; nor is the other lady in our company to be accosted in any fashion."

Barbossa nodded.

"Agreed."

000

Well, things happened awfully fast after that, I must say. The next thing you know the plank had been run out over the side of the ship and Elizabeth was being shoved toward it and I was debating whether I should push forward to join her or to skulk back with the crew in hopes of finding out where Ginny was being kept. As I mulled over that particular problem, raucous cries went up, directed at Elizabeth.

"Go on!" one particularly filthy-looking fellow roared, "walk the plank!"

Will was justifiably upset at this turn of events, and as he struggled forward to accuse Barbossa of dealing unfairly with him, I slipped my arm out of Barbossa's grip, which had slackened considerably, and ducked back to the mast to confer with the prisoners bound there.

"Do you think I should try to go look for my friend?"

Gibbs pondered the problem with due gravity. At last he shook his head sorrowfully.

"I really wouldn't be one to say, lass. The fate such as Miss Elizabeth," he nodded in her direction, and I saw her looking pained as Will was gagged and hauled away, "is about to endure, I would not wish on ye if ye could not be certain of escape . . . and yet a lady on a pirate ship, among men as depraved as these . . . well, perhaps ye would be better off chancing death. T'all depends on how you look at it, like."

I swallowed and nodded vigourously, casting a nervous glance about me at the filthy lot of them. I did not especially relish the idea that any of them might at any time forget Barbossa's vow that I was not to be touched, and get a little too free with his hands- or any other part of him, for that matter. I swallowed again, frowning.

"But my friend . . ."

"If she's here, lass, we'll find her, and if we do, 'tis on my word that we'll look out for her," Gibbs promised. "But you should be going now. If ye can swim, then ye'd be best advised to jump and have done with it- ye'd be a sight better off with Jack for a guide than ye would be to stay. Jack, he's a lot of things, but he's not a dishonourable man. Ye'd be safer in his company than ye would with the like of this lot."

It was what I had suspected already, but hadn't wanted to hear. I wanted to hear Gibbs say that it would be better for me to go hunting for my friend, who was a lot of things, but my friend first and foremost, and as such had held the majority of my thoughts ever since we had been separated. I was worried for her, if for no other reason than that - it must be admitted - I secretly rather doubted her ability to hold up under conditions such as she'd had thrust upon her. Not, mind you, that I thought I'd be any better at handling them, but at least, if I were with her, we could try to handle it together, whereas if I left . . .

But I couldn't really bring myself to doubt that what Gibbs had said was true, so with feelings of intense misgiving I turned back to watch as Elizabeth stripped off her outer garment and chucked it at Barbossa. I sidled forward, careful to avoid detection by any member of the crew. Not that they'd have been likely to have noticed me anyway- they were all too busy cheering as Elizabeth was sent hurtling off into the deep blue sea and Jack was hustled forward to be next in line.

As he attempted to pacify Barbossa, I pressed closer and closer to the side, until at last I found there was nothing between me and the long drop into the sea but a thick wooden rail. I gripped it to steady my nerves, breathing deeply as Jack hopefully requested a pair of pistols for himself and Elizabeth, and rather than having his request met, was told to be a gentleman- a novel concept for him, I am sure.

Then the pistol was sent flying overboard and Jack went after it, and I knew it was now or never. So, hiking my skirts up higher than I would have bet was seemly, I scrambled up onto the rail, swung my legs over and unceremoniously dove into the azure waters below.

000

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Island chapter coming up next- this one's going to be interesting, I think. Sort of like a sociological experiment gone horribly awry. Much like this fic.

In the meantime, tell me what you've though of how it's turning out so far! I also really appreciate that you've already done so, and just want to say that all of you guys who have are sooo awesome to me! Thank you!


	18. An asthma attack and a great big bonfire

Know what I hate? I hate me when I'm really, really stupid (and I can be. My friends and family are too nice to say so, so I have to say it myself. I can be a world-class imbecile sometimes, and it's just . . . not good). So to calm myself down after one particularly stupid thing I did, I decided to try to update this fic. Let's see how it goes!

And to make sure I don't do something even more stupid by forgetting to put in disclaimers, I'm putting them in right now! This is MY story but the story I'm playing it off of is not. That belongs to Disney, a company that takes such great delight in suing people who really don't deserve the grief that they really do scare me. Anyway, having no desire to incur their wrath, I'll say right here and now that _Pirates of the Caribbean_ is NOT MINE.

That said, I guess there's nothing left to do but to smile prettily, beg for reviews, and start writing the next chap! (oh, and warn you that now for some reason the site won't permit asterisks so I've had to use zeroes instead. I've also gone back and replaced the other asterisks with zeroes, just so it all matches) Settle back and enjoy the ride!

000

000

I can swim. I really can. I'm no Olympic contender, but I did grow up next to the ocean- we had a home sandwiched between the beach and the marshes, and when the tide got too high it would actually rise up and surround the house and flood the marshes. It got a little damp, but did I ever get my swimming practice in! Also, as I mentioned earlier, my summer job is running a day camp from our church, which is right on a lovely big lake. The kids love the lake, so I do need to know how to kick my legs a bit in case I need to dive in and pull some waterlogged kid out from where he got in over his head. For those reasons - as well as my general foolhardiness - I figured that I would be able to more or less manage in the waters that surrounded the boat. The island, after all, wasn't THAT far off, so surely it would just be a simple task of holding my breath and setting to, right?

Yeah. Right.

Firstly, normally when I swim, I do it in a bathing suit that allows freedom of movement. A bathing suit is a far cry from yards and yards of heavy once-white fabric that entwines itself about what were once very nice leather sandals as I try my hardest to keep my head above the choppy waters and keep the island toward which we are headed in sight. Secondly, I have asthma. Not as severe as my little sister's, but it's asthma all the same, and neither panic nor sudden, intense exercise do much for the amount of clearance in my bronchial tubes. Thirdly, I hadn't ever been that far out in the water before. Even though I'm used to swimming in rough water, I'm not used to not having a place to rest my feet every so often, so as I result I found myself treading water just to catch my breath and battle back wheezes before I was even thirty yards away from the ship. This was when Jack resurfaced, pistol and scabbard in hand, to shake the waterlogged dreadlocks from his eyes and peer about to locate the island.

What he located first, though, was me, and at the sight of me he altered his course, striking out to reach my side and enquire, just as solicitously as you please, "having a spot of trouble, are we, lass?"

I made a face at him as I shook my head irritably, breathing hard with just a slight whistle as I tried to come up with enough breath to formulate a reply. "No, Captain Sparrow, WE are doing just fine. It is _I_-" (wheeze, hack, gasp) "who am having more than a spot of trouble."

He surveyed me critically as I bobbed up and down, treading most expertly, if I do say so myself, and wondered, "I suppose taking off those skirts is out of the question?"

I sniffed impatiently, not even caring to think of what he'd make of the shorts and tank top I was wearing underneath.

"Quite."

He sighed rather mournfully and extended his arms, and with them, the items he held. I blinked at them rather stupidly, flailing about in the tide as I was, and stammered, "what in the world-?"

"Well, I can hardly manage to make my way to the island if I'm toting both you and them, now, can I?" he drawled. "And unless you'd want me to be leaving you here, I'd advise to get a good grip on them with one hand, and on this," he stretched out on his back in the tide to present me with a foot, "with the other. Though mind you," he narrowed kohl-rimmed eyes at me dangerously, "if you drop those, I'll send you right to the bottom along with them."

I swallowed hard, accepting the scabbard first and fumbling to belt it around my hips in what I judged to be the most practical means of carrying it before I also took hold of the pistol he held. I debated only briefly before stuffing it down the front of my bodice in what proved to be a most agonisingly tight fit, but at least, I decided, a secure one. Then I clasped hold of the foot he indicated, and let him get started in what seemed to be some version of a breaststroke before I kicked my legs as best I could, hoping to propel us forward in some fashion.

We weren't the most graceful sight in the water, I'm sure, and Elizabeth arrived long before we did, but we made it all the same, and once we did I promptly collapsed, squeezing my eyes tight shut against the glare of midday sun.

"Thank you," I managed before I coughed up about half the sea right then and there. Elizabeth was surveying us both impatiently, but at my watery version of an asthma attack she did soften enough to reach down and free my waist of Jack's scabbard, passing it to him before she reached unceremoniously into my dress to yank two of my stays free, along with Jack's pistol. Then she threw the pistol at its owner, dropped the stays in the sand beside me, and stalked off across the beach to sulk in peace.

"Starchy little piece of goods, innit she?" Jack observed mildly, watching her go, and I stared blearily up at him, trying to fight back the tightening of my chest. There wasn't much else I could do, seeing as I left my inhaler in my purse and my purse was under my seat back in the movie theatre in the twenty-first century, where I myself was starting to wish I could be.

It was at my silence that he seemed to realise something was wrong, and wondered, "you doing all right down there, love?"

I shook my head feebly at him, and he frowned, bending down to help me sit up a bit.

"That better?" he wanted to know once I'd sucked another couple lungsful of salt air down where they belonged. I nodded weakly but didn't bother to move, instead fixing my sights on the _Black Pearl_ as she moved farther away across the horizon. Jack followed my gaze and his own jaw tightened.

"That's the second time I've had to watch that man sail away with my ship," he muttered, and I offered a glance that I hoped was sympathetic before I returned to breathing hard and listening to the whistle in my chest.

He frowned at me, and wondered, "can ye walk at all, love?"

I shook my head and glared at him, deciding that some speech was worth the costly expenditure of oxygen if only to get a very important directive across.

"Do not," I scowled, panting just a bit, "call me love."

He blinked, startled, and then gave a sharp bark of what I think must have been laughter.

"Not a bit like your friend, are you, lo- lass?" he grinned at me as he helped me to my feet, and I had to agree that I was not.

"How is she?" I added, frowning, and he sobered just slightly.

"Well, that'd be tricky to say. That is to say, she was well as could be when I left her, but as to how she now I'm sure I couldn't say. But," he bent and gathered up the two stays Elizabeth relieved me of, and presented them to me quite gallantly, "if she's made of as stern stuff as she seemed to be, then perhaps she might not fare so badly at all."

It wasn't quite the guarantee I had been looking for, but he was already setting off determinedly toward the trees and the cache of rum I knew was hidden there, so I haven't the time to extract a more definite vow from him. Instead I settled for removing my shoes and making my way slowly along the beach, knowing that Elizabeth and Jack would be along to build a fire soon enough, and that I would be of no help them at all if I didn't first sit down and focus on trying to get my breath back.

000

By the time I was breathing once more, Elizabeth was able to find me and make it quite plain that she was, once again, fit to be tied.

"Rum!" she hollered as she came upon me, brandishing a bottle of just that substance in one fist. "Rum! He was lying on a beach drinking RUM! Can you credit it! That a man could be so loathsome, lazy, and just plain DISGUSTING?"

I smiled half in sympathy, half in amusement, and shook my head. "I daresay," I decided, "that there are men who are much worse."

"Name one!" she challenged me dangerously, eyes glittering, and I bit my lip to hold back an even bigger smile.

"Well, rather than play that game, why don't we get a fire going? It's past noon now, and it will be evening soon enough. We'd be better off if we could be certain we wouldn't freeze, don't you think?"

Such practicality served to distract her from her violent rage, so we set to gathering wood until we judged our pile was big enough to hold us through the night, whereupon we took the liberty of smashing the loaded bottle of rum on a rock and using the densest part of the glass from the base to hold over a small pile of straw at the base of our wood heap. It was no magnifying glass of any definitive sort, and it may not have been midday, but the sun was far from impotent and the glass was certainly strong enough. In less than two minutes the straw smouldered, then caught. We stood close at first to coax the flame along, but before much longer we found we were standing back to avoid the searing heat. Jack arrived then, already well on his way to becoming quite inebriated, and generously offered round more bottles of rum from the armload he held.

I refused; Elizabeth frowned haughtily at him, but accepted, and took one single, tentative sip. She blanched, then flushed, then turned rather green and spat out the little bit of rum she had actually taken in. Jack, already weaving his way through the tide and mumbling to himself, didn't notice, and I offered her a wry smile and tapped the side of my nose to assure her that I was not about to tell him. She nodded curtly, and in short order half of her bottle had been discreetly emptied into the sand at her feet. Then she too began wandering, and I settled back on the beach to watch as she began playing the part of a rather tipsy lady herself.

I've never found drunkenness amusing - far too many addicts run in my family for me to be able to laugh at slurred speech and a weaving walk - but in this case I did allow myself to admire Elizabeth's portrayal of the part. She didn't overdo it, which had the rather simple effect of making it entirely believable. I watched as her "condition" appeared to advance, and Jack returned to settle down on the beach beside her and offer a lazy toast to either myself or the horseshoe crab scuttling down the sand beside me- I couldn't be quite certain which.

Then Elizabeth too flopped down and lay on her back for a moment, watching as the first stars began to appear against the dimming evening sky. She hummed faintly to herself for a moment, then started to sing a few of the words aloud rather faintly.

"We extort, we pilfer, we pillage and sack . . ." she held up the bottle in her hand, studied the dregs of the liquid, and smirked just slightly. "Drink up, me hearties," she decided, and appeared to knock back another mouthful. "Yo ho," she muttered, then turned her head to spit it out on the beach beside her. Jack glanced over, blinked, and wondered,

"What was that?"

She blinked at him.

"What was what?"

"That," he gestured lazily with the hand that held his precious bottle. "That- that song. What was it?"

She looked surprised.

"It's a pirate song. I learned it from a crewmember on our ship when I was just a child. I thought," she twisted her lips in a wry grin, "that it was a rather glamorous style of life, and I determined that I would learn all I could of pirates and buccaneers and . . . and such persons as . . . yourself."

This was apparently very pleasing to Jack's vanity, for he struck a rather comical pose that was doubtless meant to be impressive before he ventured, "how does it go?"

"What, the song?" she wondered, and he nodded, so she frowned, thought, and began to sing it from the beginning. Once she had gotten the whole way through, it was apparent that Jack was thoroughly taken with the ditty, and insisted on being taught to sing it himself. They worked their way through three more bottles of rum before he was sufficiently studied to get up and make a solo out of it, and his singing was so perfectly dreadful that Elizabeth and I both fell over, clutching our sides as we shrieked with laughter. He pretended offence, so to mollify him we both had to get up and make a trio out of it.

I'm not a bad singer, but even a great singer couldn't sound halfway decent next to a drunk man and a girl pretending to be drunk, so after one verse I bowed out and watched them go galloping around the campfire, whooping, hollering and singing at the top of their lungs.

"We're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs!" they carolled, "Drink up me hearties yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!"

I hid a smirk as they both met in a tangle of arms and legs and swung about a bit before Jack, gesturing wildly, declared, "I love this song! Really . . . bad eggs! Whoo . . ." he tumbled to the ground but didn't appear to notice, and instead continued his thought. "When I get the _Pearl_ back, I'm gonna teach it to the whole crew and we'll sing it all the time!"

The plan clearly delighted him, although I seriously doubted he would remember so much as a word of it come morning. Elizabeth, though, pandered to his ego in that way of most women that I myself have never quite been able to manage as she raised her jug to declare, "and you'll be positively the most fearsome pirate in the Spanish Main!"

I permitted myself a roll of my eyes, but Jack, appearing most dignified with drunken solemnity, corrected her quite gravely.

"Not just the Spanish Main, love; the entire ocean. The entire world. Wherever we want to go, we'll go." He sighed almost dreamily at the thought before delivering a rather grave oration. "That's what a ship is, you know. It's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails - that's what a ship needs - but what a ship is . . . what the _Black Pearl_ really is . . . is freedom."

He sounded quite serious, and even though he was drunk through to next Wednesday I couldn't help but admire the passion behind his speech. Elizabeth, though, devoted a few seconds to carelessly studying the liquid sloshing about in her own jug before she remarked, tones heavy with sympathy, "Jack, it must be really terrible for you to be trapped on this island."

Although this clearly hadn't occurred to Jack beforehand, he was quick to make the best of a sympathetic observation- and a warm shoulder, about which he draped an arm as he agreed.

"Oh yes. But the company," he twinkled blearily in what he must have thought was my direction but was actually more in the direction of a palm tree some yards behind me, "is infinitely better than last time, I think. And the-" he looked back down to Elizabeth, "the scenery has definitely improved."

Elizabeth sat up, pretending offence.

"Mr. Sparrow, I'm not entirely sure that I've had enough rum to allow that kind of talk."

"I know exactly what you mean, love," Jack decided and went to the trouble of curling his moustache up at the corners as Elizabeth raised her jug and offered a toast.

"To freedom."

Jack nodded and raised his own drink as he seconded her.

"To the _Black Pearl_."

Then he knocked back so heavily on his drink that he just fell right over and blacked out. I made a face at his prostrate body, as did a suddenly sober Elizabeth, who promptly emptied her jug into the sand.

"Disgusting pig," she muttered, and I shrugged, getting up to go toss another log on the fire.

"You gave a pretty convincing performance yourself."

"I had to be certain of getting him to sleep soundly," she shrugged, flinging the bottle she held as far from her as she could manage. "That way he won't try to shoot me or hang me or do anything similarly unpleasant when I burn up all of his precious poison tomorrow morning." She studied the fire and then headed back over to a spot on the sand farther away from Jack's prostrate, snoring form and closer to where I had been seated. "Would you care to help me?"

I knew she could make out just fine on her own without any help from me, but I did like the idea of finally being able to do something productive during this adventure, so I nodded decisively and said I would, indeed. She smiled, apparently pleased.

"Good. But that is tomorrow," she stretched out on the sand, yawning, "and this is tonight, and I think we would be best served by getting some sleep of our own in, don't you?"

And, since I couldn't think of any logical reason why we would not, I stretched out on the sand myself and said I guessed that I agreed.

And that, it seemed, was that.

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Well I had fun with that! There is of course a bit more island stuff to come, as well as the whole getting off the island part, but for now this will have to do. I'm really enjoying myself, though, so who knows how soon the next chapter will come? I might actually be able to do a few updates that aren't months apart- fancy that! Anyway, I'd love to know what you thought of this chap, so do please all be dears and tell me.

Thanks also to all of you who were so good as to tell me so already- you guys are the best!


	19. An even bigger bonfire and a rescue

Well here it is- another chapter! And I really can't quite believe it, but it actually did get done rather fast, considering what things have been- hectic and all. I'd kind of like to finish this fic before the next movie comes out, because who knows what fun I'll want to have with that!

Not fun, though, are lawsuits. I don't say that from personal experience but I can just bet somebody coming to take away my very few worldly possessions would make me rather cross, so I'll just say here and now that while this story is mine, _Pirates of the Caribbean_ is not, so . . . yeah. No money from this, people.

Some very nice of reviews, though! I've been getting lots of lovely reviews, and I really do appreciate them! There weren't quite as many for the last chap as usual, but I know it's been forever since I've updated, so if people forgot this even exists I do understand. Thanks so much to those who did review, and please, keep them coming! They just make me so ridiculously happy! As does writing this fic, so sit back, relax, and enjoy!

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I actually woke up before Elizabeth did, which surprised me not so much because I took her for an early riser as it did because I know I am not. But there I was, waking her up and reminding her of her plan of the night before. To her credit she was up in a flash when she remembered, and she really did do most of the lifting and hauling because I was busy pawing through the sand for the bone stays I neglected to replace the night before. Once I'd found those and driven them back where they belonged, I had to take a minute to reaccustom myself to the girth of the corset before I could be of any help to Elizabeth, and by then she was just about ready to set a torch to the pile she'd made. There wasn't much left for me to do, but I cleared away some stray branches that might have brought the fire too close to the beach, tossed a few crates of rum on, then stood back and watch as the whole thing went up in smoke.

"It's rather a nice fire, isn't it?" Elizabeth seemed almost childishly pleased with herself, and I had to agree that it really was quite a nice blaze she had going. Jack, though, when he awoke, was dissimilarly impressed. He blinked stupidly at the sight of Elizabeth and me gathering up the few remaining crates and pitching them into the fire, which was churning out smoke quite steadily, and lurched to his feet in profound dismay.

"No! Not good!" he hollered, stumbling towards us, bent under the weight of his hangover. "Stop! Not good! What are you doing? You burned all the food, the shade," he stepped aside almost automatically to allow me to step past him to head down to wash off my hands in the tide before turning back to Elizabeth, "the rum!"

"Yes, the rum is gone," she moved forward, squinting at the waters herself as Jack stared at her back in stupefaction.

"Why is the rum gone?"

I don't know if he was really able to process the answer she gave him, but she didn't seem to care because she gave it anyway.

"One, because it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels. Two, that signal is over a thousand feet high. The entire Royal Navy is out looking for me; do you really think that there is even the slightest chance that they won't see it?"

This was of less interest to Jack than other matters, as was evidenced when he demanded, still bewildered, "but why is the rum gone?"

Elizabeth ignored the question, electing instead to settle herself down on the beach as I finished scrubbing at my soot-blacked hands and made my way back to join them.

"Just wait, Captain Sparrow," she advised him grimly as I reached them both. "You give it one hour, maybe two, keep a weather eye out and then you will see white sails on that horizon."

Jack was clearly ill prepared to deal with such advice. He even fumbled his pistol out of his waistband and aimed it frantically at the back of her head, but at catching my horrified glance, stiffened, replaced it and stormed off. I watched him go and couldn't help but feel just a little sorry for him.

"I'll be right back," I murmured to Elizabeth, and she nodded absently, so I hurried after Jack, catching up with him about twenty yards down the beach.

"We only did what we thought was best," I pointed out, and he muttered something rude under his breath that made my cheeks turn pink. "Well there's hardly any call for that sort of language," I muttered, and he shot me a curious glance.

"Just where is it you come from, anyway, lass? You and that friend of yours. You're not from around here, that's plain to see. You, now, you're just as stiff-lipped and upright as any missionary around here, but you for certain don't dress like one," he nodded at my off-white, once quite costly gown, "and that friend of yours, she's a right puzzle."

I shrugged, and made a conscious effort not to cross my arms across the portion of my chest that the dress did, indeed, leave rather exposed.

"She's a . . . right puzzle where we come from, too," I admitted. "Though maybe not as much as she is here. And what about you?" I poked his arm accusingly. "You're a real mystery too, aren't you? You weren't always a pirate, were you? You couldn't have been. Real pirates aren't . . . like you."

He shot me a guarded look. "Oh? And what's a real pirate like?"

"Not like you," I frowned. "You . . . you've got honour, of a sort. Barbossa and his crew aren't like you. You're . . . a gentleman, of a kind. Not maybe the kind you'd see in a fine home in Port Royal, but you're still a gentleman all the same. A pirate . . . wouldn't have listened if I'd told him not to call me love. A pirate would have laughed in my face and . . . and maybe done worse. You laughed, maybe, but you listened, too. That's respectable. And it's admirable, too. So that's what I mean when I say you're not like a real pirate. Even though you do pirate things, you're not a pirate in there," I pointed at his chest, "and I guess I was just wondering, if you're not really a pirate, what it is you are."

Jack frowned and studied the ground as we walked, and when at last he spoke, his tones were thoughtful.

"In England, about fifteen to twenty years ago, there was a young man named John Sparrow. He was a cartographer, and a fine one at that. He was apprenticed to one of the best mapmakers in all of England, and he made a decent living by his trade, but . . . it wasn't what his heart longed for. Every day he would look out the window of the shop and see ships setting off for parts unknown, and he would dream of one day going with them. Yet it never seemed as if his dream would come true, because where does a cartographer need to travel? All he ever does is make maps based on the discoveries of others. So he told himself to be content, and yet . . . he was never quite satisfied with his lot. It seemed to him that he was meant for something more. Then, one day, he got his chance- the chance he had been longing for all his life. He was cleaning out some old maps under the direction of his master, and whilst going through them he found a tattered old scrap of paper that gave the location of a fabulous treasure- a treasure unlike any he'd ever dared to dream of. Before the young man let himself think of what it was he was about, he pocketed the paper with the bearing of the treasure, turned in his notice and set off to buy himself the finest, fastest ship he could afford. He had hold of a few ears, even then . . . he found some people who could supply him with the sort of goods one couldn't find in any old port," here his hand dropped absently to the compass that hung at his waist, "and he went out to recruit himself a real crew."

Jack looked up then, and in his face for just a minute I could see the glow of real longing- the same longing that the young man he spoke of as if he were an entirely separate entity must also have felt. Then he shrugged rather carelessly as he concluded.

"So young John Sparrow got himself a ship to fall in love with, found himself a crew, and . . . he became a legend."

I looked up at him, considering.

"Just like that?"

He nodded, careless once more.

"Just like that. But you make no mistake about it, lass," he shot me a sharp glance. "Just because I happen to have some shred of honour, don't you be thinking that I'm not a pirate. I earned me the title of Captain, and no mistaking it. I've seen hardships as you've never dreamed . . . and treasure the likes of which I'm sure you've no idea. And I'll fight to the death to get back what's mine, not to mention take what's not, and that, lass, is all the makings of a pirate."

I allowed that perhaps it was, and he abruptly changed the subject on me in favour of shouting,

"And just what makes a gentleman or a lady anyway, I'd like to know? That snippy little woman back there, she's supposed to be a lady, aye, but what sort of lady destroys a man's prized possessions?! What did she think she was about, burning all me rum! Friends like that, lass, they cut back on the need for enemies! The nerve of these people thinking they can go about telling me what to do just because they happen to have cold cash and I'm currently out of possession of any tradable assets. Sneaky as the Serpent, these women," he added without apology. "Oh, aye, 'must've been terrible for you to be trapped here, Jack'," he mimicked, and I smothered a grin. "'Must've been terrible for you . . .' Well it bloody is now!" he roared back in the direction of our beach, and in so doing missed seeing what I saw until I tapped him on the arm almost apologetically. He spun around scowling.

"What?" he demanded, and I was forced to point. He followed my finger, and his brows beetled together at the sight of the _Dauntless_ and her gorgeous white sails flaring on the horizon. He shot me a look so mournful I had to struggle not to laugh as he observed gloomily,

"There'll be no living with her after this."

And as much as I liked Elizabeth, I had to agree that he was probably right.

000

Things happened surprisingly quickly once we got back to the beach and told Elizabeth what we'd seen. She was really very gracious about it, and only shot Jack one triumphant look, which he missed because he was so pointedly looking away from her. Then we did our best to put out as much of the fire as we could because I was insistent that there was no point in burning up the entire island, and we were still hard at work at that when Governor Swann and Commodore Norrington, plus two able-bodied seamen, pulled up to shore in the _Dauntless's_ longboat.

My appearance was something of a puzzle to the Governor and the Commodore, as neither had so much as an inkling of who I was, but the sight of Jack put them in such a fit of rage that they barely even heard Elizabeth's explanation that I had been abducted along with her. He was promptly tackled to the sand by the able-bodied seamen, trussed up like a turkey and dropped into the bottom of the boat. Elizabeth and I were helped in a tad more graciously, with Elizabeth pausing long enough to embrace her father tightly.

Then we were rowed out to the _Dauntless_, where Elizabeth was incensed to learn that the crew did not plan to pursue the _Black Pearl_. So enraged was she that she barely even noticed the blankets and tea that were being offered to us as she chased after the men, shouting, "but we've got to save Will!"

"No," Governor Swann was adamant; "you're safe now. We will return to Port Royal immediately; not go gallivanting after pirates!"

"Then we condemn him to death," Elizabeth yelled, and the Governor did soften a touch.

"The boy's fate is regrettable," he allowed, "but then so is his decision to engage in piracy."

"To rescue _me_!" Elizabeth yelled. "To prevent anything from happening to me!"

"And what about my friend?" I'd been silent until then, but I couldn't contain myself any longer. I knew how the story went, but so help me, I was nervous. "She's no pirate. She's a prisoner on that ship- a civilian prisoner. How can you just leave an innocent girl to die?" I tactfully refrained from mentioning that she probably had a fair hand in helping boost the _Interceptor_- at that juncture, I was fairly certain, Ginny needed all the credibility she could get.

Governor Swann and Commodore Norrington exchanged hesitant glances, and Jack chose that moment to speak up with a command of persona that did him credit, even if the irons about his hands did not.

"If I may be so bold as to interject my professional opinion? The _Pearl_ was listing near to scuppers after the battle. It's very unlikely she'll be able to make good time. Think about it," he addresses Commodore Norrington enticingly. "The _Black Pearl_; the last real pirate threat in the Caribbean, mate. How can you pass that up?"

Norrington did himself credit, though, as his back remained straight and he answered evenly, "by remembering that I serve others, Mr. Sparrow, not only myself."

I think I may have melted just a teeny bit.

Elizabeth, though, was not so smitten by the righteousness of the Commodore as she was stricken at the thought of what the pirates must have been doing to her true love, and she rushed forward to implore him. "Commodore, I beg you, please do this. For me . . . as a wedding gift."

That certainly got a reaction from both the Commodore, who looked back sharply at her, and the Governor, who stammered,

"Elizabeth. Are you accepting the Commodore's proposal?"

It must have just about killed her to do so, but she answered to the affirmative.

"I am."

Jack was truly delighted as he rejoiced, "A wedding!" He turned to address one of the stalwart seamen who guarded him. "I love weddings. Drinks all around!"

I glared at him from where I stood a few feet away. "You, Captain Sparrow," I observed, "had quite enough to drink last night, as you'll recall. I don't recommend you indulge again."

"Indeed," Commodore Norrington observed dryly, and Jack subsided as he held out his hands reluctantly.

"I know . . . clap in him irons, right?"

I had to wince in sympathy for him before the Commodore, back still straight, announced,

"Mr. Sparrow. You will accompany these fine men to the helm and provide us with the bearing to Isla de Muerta. You will then spend the rest of the voyage contemplating all possible meanings of the phrase 'silent as the grave'. Do I make myself clear?"

Jack winced as he confessed that the Commodore did, in fact. Then he was hustled off in accordance with the directions given, leaving me to take in the sight of Elizabeth, her head bowed under the weight of the sacrifice she had just made. She was in no condition for companionship, and while Governor Swann seemed willing enough to leave her in peace, the Commodore looked ready to approach her, so I made a snap decision.

"So, Commodore," I surged forward, smiling up at him nervously, taking his arm and all but dragging him away from the side of his intended, leaving her in relative peace, "what can you tell me about . . . boats?"

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Another chapter under my belt! Except I'm not wearing a belt at the moment, but that's just a minor consideration, really. The important fact is, it's done, which means I'm one chapter closer to the end! Yay! And I have a job, too- double yay! And I'm working right across the street from one of my best friends, and just down the road from another one! Triple yay!

And yay also to the lovely reviews you've all been so sweet to give me. Thank you so much, everybody! You're just the darlingest!


	20. A loopholey legend and an incarceration

I can't believe it- I'm still writing! I mean I'm not surprised I'm writing- I usually am. But I'm surprised I'm still writing this! As fun as it is, it always seems to get away from me, but now I finally have the time to update it for some reason. I missed it. I've missed all my own stuff. I'm so glad to have it back! (huggles her fics affectionately, then blushes, and quickly lets them go)

Right. Anyway, as I'm sure you must all know by now, only this particular story is mine. Even a lot of the dialogue isn't because I took it verbatim from the script (way more than I planned to, incidentally) so I can't even take credit for all of that. The insertion of my friend and myself, though, is my own creation, as are any words and occurrences in here that aren't in the script and/or the film, so we'll just by and large call the story mine. I'm not, though, making any money from this, and neither is the whole _Pirates of the Caribbean_ thing mine, though I'm sure looking forward to the sequel! Anyway. No lawsuits.

Otherwise, so long as you don't bear court summons, I'd love to hear from people! Constructive reviews are the spice of life, so I'd love to hear what you liked about the fic, or didn't understand, or think I can make better (though plotwise I guess I'm pretty safe since the general plot isn't even mine) so please, let me know what you think! Those of you who have, thank you so much! I hope you continue to enjoy!

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While the Commodore made free with his appallingly extensive knowledge regarding all vessels seafaring, Ginny and her friends were having a bit of a worse time of it. She tells me it wasn't long at all before the ragtag crew of the Interceptor were hustled down to join her in the brig, and she found that she was incarcerated in the same cell as the midget and Anamaria, as well as a few others. Anamaria greeted Ginny just as cordially as if they were two ladies meeting on a sunny, tree-lined street, and between the two of them they convinced one of the sailors that he wouldn't mind lying down in the ankle-deep water, whereupon they promptly sat on him, using him in lieu of a bench.

Then Gibbs enquired after Ginny's well-being, and she enquired after mine. On learning that I had chosen to escape, she grumbled for a bit and then relented, saying she guessed that she couldn't blame me, seeing as I'd already known what a condition the brig was in.

"But I still wish she'd come," she swung her toe at the bars. "Because I wanted to ask her if she saw _Alias_ on Sunday. I missed it. It was a rerun, but still . . ." Then she looked over to where Will was locked up all by himself, and wondered, "how about you? You doing all right?"

Will, head bowed, didn't answer, and Ginny bit her lip.

"She's okay, you know," she offered. "Elizabeth, I mean. She's fine. They'll be rescued. Her father and the Commodore will find her just fine, you'll see."

Will glanced up, looking dubious, and Ginny gave him her best smile. She was a bit put out when it didn't seem to have much of an effect, but she told herself he was under a lot of stress, and let it go at that. Then she turned to Anamaria and the two of them struck up a friendly conversation on the topic of finding good rum in the Caribbean that lasted until Pintel and Ragetti appeared with mops, pails, and orders to swab down the brig.

"Although I don't see what they need the pails for," Ginny groused, eyeing the ankle-deep water, and edging away from a floating dead rat. "They could start their own wave park in here if they had a mind to." She was largely ignored, though, so she settled back to tug at her corset and sulk until the pair of pirates had come level with their cells, and the parrot on Cotton's shoulder let out a throaty squawk.

"Awwk, shiver me timbers," it observed, and Gibbs took it upon himself to translate.

"Cotton here says you missed a bit."

He got mop shoved at him for his troubles so he fell silent again, and there was general quiet in the brig once more until Will spoke up, clearly desperate to know something.

"You knew William Turner?"

Pintel stopped with his labours long enough to answer to the affirmative, then went on to reminisce. "Never sat well with Bootstrap what we did to Jack Sparrow. He said it wasn't right with the code. That's why he sent off a piece of the treasure to you, as it were. He said we deserved to be cursed . . . and remain cursed."

"Well," Ginny observed to nobody in particular, "he seems a most sensible fellow, I must say."

Ragetti glared at her in contradiction. "Stupid blighter," he corrected her, but Gibbs spoke out quickly, voice strong.

"Good man."

"But," Pintel continued with his narration, "as you can imagine, that didn't sit too well with the Captain."

"That didn't sit too well with the Captain at all," Ragetti agreed, giggling nervously, then poked Pintel in the side. "Tell 'em what Barbossa did."

"Ooh, ooh!" Ginny hopped up off of her human perch and did a little dance, waving her hand. "Me, me, pick me! I know what he did! I'll tell them!" She got a mop banged against her cell as well (and deservedly so, I have to say) as Pintel roared,

"I'M telling the story! So," he went on as Ginny subsided into sulks once more, "what the Captain did, he strapped a cannon to Bootstrap's bootstraps."

"Bootstrap's bootstraps," Ragetti echoed with a giggle.

"The last we saw of ol' Bill Turner," Pintel concluded, "he was sinking to the crushing black oblivion of Davy Jones's locker. Course," he shrugged, "it was only after that we learned we needed his blood to lift the curse."

"That's what you call ironic," Ragetti added knowledgeably, and Ginny cocked her head to one side.

"Dontcha think?" she agreed, and got a few strange looks, but when she saw they were prepared to ignore her again she quickly jumped to her feet and wondered, "does nobody else spot the continuity glitch here?" Nobody answered her, but that rarely stops Ginny when she's in good form, so she barrelled right ahead. "I mean, who writes for Disney, anyway? This is just ridiculous. If he were cursed it wouldn't matter if you shot him full of holes or sealed him in a tomb or did anything else to him because don't you get it? These guys just can't die. They're cursed, remember? Yet miraculously for some reason every single bloody person on this ship has got it into his or her head that a stupid old cannon somehow did the job. I don't get you people. I just don't get you."

Then, seeing as they all seemed determined to continue to ignore her, she subsided to the back of their bench yet again and muttered, "but hey, what do I know? I've only seen the movie six times . . . well, five. And this is the sixth. And it should really count for a lot more, don't you think? Because - well I mean, this is just IT."

Then, before she could get worked up to a really good sulk, Barbossa appeared, chains in hand, which he tossed to Pintel with a savage roar.

"Bring him!"

And Ginny, who never likes being ignored, just couldn't quite muster the concern she probably should have as Will was freed, shackled, and dragged up, out of the brig onto the deck.

000

Meanwhile, back on the _Dauntless_, I finally escaped the Commodore's exhaustive explanations and found a quiet corner to myself where I debated what to do. While so doing, I found that I really couldn't make up my mind as to what I _ought_ to do. On the one hand, I didn't particularly WANT to be stuck on board the ship when a whole bunch of undead pirates swarmed it; on the other, I didn't want to sit in a bunch of boats with men who were going to end up rowing back to the ship anyway. Of course, me being a girl, and all, I probably wouldn't even be let so much as close to the boats, so that did solve that problem, but once I realised that, I also got a bit put out at the lack of choice. So as soon as I could manage it, I left the room I'd been given as my own and made my way back up on deck, where Jack was standing, waiting to be loaded into the boats with all the rest of the soldiers. He gave me a rather silly smile and I found myself hard pressed not to return it. Then, just because it seemed rude to let it go with only a smile, I hurried over to ask him how he was doing.

"Oh, fair to middling," he decided, making a show of examining his surroundings. "I do like this ship. It's a very pretty ship. Not so very fast as that other one, mind you, but quite an impressive vessel all the same."

"I suppose ships are the eighteenth century man's equivalent of a car," I decided, and Jack blinked at me for a moment before I amended, "ships and maybe horses. Something to baby and brag about and to use in . . . well," my cheeks flamed, "compensation. Sometimes. Not always. Anyway. Yes. It's a very nice ship. But don't you want your own back?"

Jack appeared offended.

"Of course I do. The _Pearl_ is my own; this is somebody else's. The _Pearl_, now, I know every plank on her decks. I know every line of her, every curve of her; from the sweep of her prow to the swell of her keel. From the slope of her bulkhead to the-"

"All right, all right," I quickly held up my hand. "It's not that I don't appreciate the poetry in what you're saying, but I've never been too comfortable listening to guys talk about their cars as if they were their girlfriends or something, and you've just shown me that I feel the same way about guys and their ships, so . . . yes. I'm sure you two are very happy together, and that when you get her back it will be a very . . . pleasant reunion." I flashed a smile that included the two seamen coming to take Jack into the boat, and took a few quick steps back.

"Well, I must be running along, now. Lovely to talk to you, Captain Sparrow, and- and- happy hunting." Then I skittered off, seeking out Elizabeth and finding her not too far from the boats themselves. She, though, was watching the caves with a sort of grim determination, and I felt a bit sorry for her, knowing as I did how soon she was to be incarcerated.

"He'll be all right," I offered, which in hindsight was probably an aggravating thing for her to hear, because to her mind I had not a clue as to what I was talking about. But at the time it seemed the right thing to say.

Her lips twisted a touch bitterly and she wondered, "have you ever been in love and . . . and felt as if it did you no good? As if you might as well not bother at all because you know there's no chance that you'll ever get to . . . act on your love?"

I considered comparing her situation to mine with a handful of movie stars I occasionally take the time to drool over, then decided that now wasn't the time to be flippant, so I just shook my (incredibly tangled, itchy, greasy) head in sympathy.

"No," I admitted. "I haven't. And I can't imagine what it must be like. But," I ventured, "I think . . . I think that was an incredibly brave thing you did today."

She looked over at me in surprise, and queried, "what, the fire?"

"No," I countered, "with- with the Commodore. I know you don't love him."

"He's a fine man," she said, almost as if trying to convince herself that it was the same thing. I eyed her sceptically.

"Well, I know lots of fine men, but that doesn't mean I want to marry all of them. Any of them, actually. Now, Will- he's a fine man, too. He may not have a naval career at his back, but he's honest and he's hardworking and he loves you more than anything. I don't see what more anybody could want, and for you, I bet there's nothing more you want. But you gave that up in order to save him, even though you're settling for less than what's best for you, and that," I concluded, "is about the bravest thing I've ever heard. It's a lot braver than I'll ever be, I can tell you that. I'm too selfish to be that brave."

She offered me a small, watery smile before she looked back out over the water, studying the boats that were disappearing in the gloom. I let her watch for a minute longer before I concluded,

"I just wish that you didn't have to be so miserable having done it."

000

I don't know how long we stood there, but it can't have been too terribly long before that annoying little Gillette fellow and a couple others showed up and fussily announced that we were to be escorted to the staterooms and - now, here's the kicker - locked in and put under guard. My claustrophobia kicked in, albeit in a milder form, and I yelled just as loudly as Elizabeth did as we were ever-so-gently taken by our elbows, lifted bodily off the deck and propelled toward the cabin.

"This is outrageous!" Elizabeth ranted. "Outrageous, insufferable and- and-"

"And just plain DUMB!" I finished, and what I may have lacked in eloquence I think I made up for in decibels.

"Sorry," Gillette parroted, not sounding anything of the sort, "but it's for your own safety."

"I don't care what the Commodore ordered!" Elizabeth roared as I was shoved in through the doors and she was pushed in immediately after, "I must tell him! The pirates- they cannot be killed!"

Okay, she just HAD to realise how that must have sounded . . . but apparently not. Gillette, though, did, as he took hold of the handles of the doors and smiled most condescendingly at her.

"Don't worry, miss, he's already informed of that. A little mermaid flopped up on deck and told him the whole story."

I wanted to smack him- I really did. Smug and condescending men just irk the living daylights out of me. Before I could do so, though, he shut the doors, leaving Elizabeth to scream over the click of the lock,

"This is Jack Sparrow's doing!"

"Not a doubt of that," I agreed, locating a chair and flopping into it. "But can you really blame him?"

She shot me a murderous glance and snapped, "just you watch me!"

I could understand her ire, so I didn't answer her, and instead settled down in the chair just a bit. There was, I knew, nothing to do now but wait, and hate the process though I did, I was getting rather good at it.

000

000

That one's done and there's- well - there's more to come, anyway. Ginny is still begging to be left behind in the movie and doesn't get why I keep refusing her, but really, her parents and brothers would just miss her way too much. So it's still a no go- you hear that, Ginny? Still. And always will be.

Meanwhile, thanks to those who found the story - either again, or for the first time - and were good enough to take the time to review! You don't know how wonderful it is to receive encouragement and friendly advice as well as thanks, so thank you all for being so good as to provide it!


	21. A lot of ducking and dodging

Yet another chap! I can't believe it- it's going to be done before you know it! I'm just having so much fun with it, and I'm also having fun with seeing it finally work its way toward completion, so who knows how soon I'll have it done? Soon, I hope!

If you don't know by now that I don't make any money off of this then I don't think you ever will, so I'm just going to stop with the disclaimers cause they take up too much space. Just go on down to the story, read, and have fun! Because this story is certainly not meant to be entered into with anything but a spirit of utmost levity.

000

000

I don't really know much of what went on outside of that cabin in the _Dauntless_ except for what I saw on the screen in the movie theatre, so I won't presume to retell all of that, just in case it somehow altered because of what Ginny and I had done by showing up. I mean, for all I know Jack and Barbossa could have launched into a lengthy debate as to who was more annoying- Ginny, or me (I vote me just because I know Ginny has this way about her that usually makes most people like her regardless of how annoying she's being). Anyway, since I don't know for a fact that they didn't, I won't write anything that might turn out to not be true. Instead, I'll skip over my incarceration with Elizabeth (who can really get very huffy when she's of a mind to) to the point where I was looking out the window and spotted Pintel and Ragetti and their pretty parasols in the rowboat.

They were a whole lot closer than I had expected them to be by that point, leading me to wonder if they might for some reason not get to the _Dauntless _way before they usually did on the movie. Regardless of their potential docking time, though, I couldn't help giggling at the sight because from far off they really did manage to look like a pair of ladies out for a boating excursion, albeit in the middle of the night off the coast of an island named after death. Before I could call Elizabeth's attention to that fact, though, something else truly bizarre caught my eye. A rowboat. Happily moored below the window, as if it had every right in the world to be there.

"Bloody continuity glitches," I muttered to nobody in particular. I glared at the boat for just a minute more - that boat has always irked me with its altogether too smug convenience - before turning to beckon a fuming Elizabeth over to the window to see it for herself. Considerably more willing to accept it as a happy coincidence than I, she permitted herself a deep smile of satisfaction before racing over to the bed and struggling to strip it.

"Quickly- help me here," she entreated. "Then we can be off and warn them ourselves."

I nodded and moved to help her, pausing mid-stride as a thought occurred to me. "Who's them?" I asked, rather ungrammatically but quite lucidly nonetheless- or so I thought. Elizabeth paused in the midst of her energetic denuding of the bed to blink at me in blank confusion.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Who do you mean?" I attempted to clarify, moving to help her rip the last few sheets free. "When you say we'll be off to warn them, who is it you mean when you say 'them'? Will? The pirates on the _Pearl_? Or . . . your Commodore?"

Elizabeth blinked then blushed, giving the last sheet an especially ferocious yank to tug it free.

"Firstly," she said stiffly as she set to knotting the corners of two sheets together, "he is not _my_ Commodore. He is my good friend James and he is soon to be my husband. So naturally I wish to warn him that he is sailing to . . . almost certain death, seeing as these absolute ninnies who sail under his command," she shot a glare in the direction of the door, "seem utterly incapable of comprehending even the simplest of explanations. Secondly," she raised her eyes long enough to grab another sheet and fling it at me, "I have just given up what might have been the greatest love of my life for his own safety's sake, and I am feeling mightily grieved over that particular fact, so if you would be so kind as to keep your opinions to yourself and make yourself useful I would be most greatly obliged."

I bobbed my head co-operatively, accepted the sheet and set to tying, knowing as I did that she was right- it was really none of my business. Still, I'm nosy by nature, and I tend to pry more than is good for me, or even really polite. I just hadn't been able to help myself. I was silent as we finished making our rope, though, and then once we'd tied the last sheet Elizabeth got to her feet with an armful of sheet and marched over to the window. She was nearing the open casement when her father's voice filtered in through the shut door.

"Elizabeth?"

Her head whipped around in momentary panic, then, as he continued to talk without entering, she relaxed a bit and tossed the rope out the window, gesturing at me to make the closest end fast to something. I tied as the Governor continued to talk.

"I just want you to know I . . . I believe you made a very good decision today. Couldn't be more proud of you."

I nodded to Elizabeth that the rope was as secure as I was able to make it, and she nodded, pleased, grabbing hold of it and swinging herself over the sill, starting down the side of the boat. I decided to let her get all the way to the bottom before I started down myself, so as I watched her progress, the Governor continued to chatter.

"But you know, even a good decision, if made for the wrong reasons, can be a wrong decision . . ."

I did have to applaud his reasoning, if not his directness, and I might have even done so literally had it not been my turn to catch hold of the knotted sheets, ease myself over the sill and pray my sandals wouldn't slip as I braced them against the side of the ship. Then, muttering a little prayer of thanks that I was at least not acraphobic on top of everything else, I started my careful way down the side of the ship and into the little rowboat that waited for me, pitching and tossing in the tide far below.

I made it into the boat in one piece, much to my surprise, and Elizabeth promptly cut the lines as I took hold of both oars. She soon relieved me of one, though, and after a couple false starts we managed to find a rhythm, pushing slowly but steadily away from the side of the ship. We weren't a great distance away but we had made some progress nonetheless before the Governor's head appeared in the window, making me wonder what he had been saying all that time. I didn't have time to wonder long, though, because it occurred to me that we were dangerously close to being in plain sight of Ragetti and Pintel, who were indeed coming closer at what suddenly seemed to me to be an alarming speed- much faster than I remembered them ever doing on screen. A few moments more and they would be all but upon us. It was my first clue that maybe Ginny and I had, by our presence, managed to alter the plot even to some slight degree, and at realising this I will confess that I got rather desperate. With a huge and rather clumsy and deep J-stroke that I knew my shoulder muscles would be a long time forgetting, I managed to swing us around the prow of the ship and out of sight. Then we took to debating anxiously what was to be done.

Elizabeth was all for fetching reinforcements before we took any action; I myself wanted to see what remained to be seen of action in the caves. Although I knew I'd missed the initial surprise of the pirates when they first laid eyes on Jack, I was determined not to miss any more. Finally we reached an accord; she would let me board Pintel and Ragetti's boat once they had it moored and take it back to the caves on my own while she rowed out to the _Pearl_ and summoned the troops. Or so she thought.

But I saw no point in discouraging her; Ginny, at least, would be a willing conspirator if she was still on the _Pearl_, although I suspected at the time that she had managed to wrangle her way into the caves. Ginny, given the choice between Orlando Bloom combined with Jack Sparrow and anything else in any universe ever created, wouldn't even hesitate. If she got her way, I knew where I'd find her. Still, there was always the chance she'd been left behind, so I made Elizabeth promise to watch out for her before we parted ways. That settled, I hopped into the boat Pintel and Ragetti left bobbing by the side of the ship as the sounds of battle began to rage overhead, and Elizabeth dug the oars in once more and headed slowly but surely off into the night, straight for the _Black Pearl_.

000

I reached the cave in surprisingly good time. I'd thought it would take me at least as long as it took Pintel and Ragetti, but apparently they hadn't been as determined as I, even given their unusual speed. Granted, when Commodore Norrington saw the boat they had let pass returning with just one lone female occupant he did look mightily baffled, but as he once more instructed his men to hold fire I ignored him for the most part, and stuck to the monotonous dip-and-pull pattern I'd fallen into since leaving Elizabeth. I was in the caves in a heartbeat after that, and bumped into several walls before I finally reached the rocky little beach of sorts that permitted me to hop out, scramble about in sodden, grungy skirts that had only just begun to dry out, and haul my little boat up as far as I could.

Feeling most irrationally pleased with this little accomplishment, I hiked up my skirts, wished suddenly that I had been as immodestly dressed as Elizabeth so they could have offered me breeches too, and squelched my cautious way towards the main cavern. I happened upon it almost by accident- it seemed closer to the little beach than it had the first time. As it was though, I almost stumbled out directly into the middle of the odd little party that had gathered- a nameless pirate tossing rocks into the water, Barbossa, seated casually on a rock, Will, held captive by an ugly looking brute, the Bo'sun, who looked most grouchy about his very existence, another nameless pirate who would be dead soon enough and Jack, who was examining a golden idol as casually as if he planned to make a purchase.

I ducked back just in time, so that my shoes squeaked only loud enough for Jack to hear. He swung his head about, eyes searching the darkness, probing the very spot where I had just stood, but he didn't see me where I had flattened myself against a wall, and Barbossa's voice recalled him to himself.

"I must admit, Jack, I thought I had ye figured. It turns out that you're a hard man to predict."

_Oh yes_, I thought silently, _yes, he is that, all right_.

"Me?" Jack spoke in a rather disbelieving tone of voice. "I'm dishonest," he corrected Barbossa, making his lazy, winding way closer to the rock-skipping pirate, "and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest . . . honestly."

I held my breath, tracking his progress with my ears rather than my eyes, not daring to step out any sooner than what Jack would doubtless have referred to as the opportune moment. The last thing I wanted to do was distract anybody who held a long sharp pointy thing that could hurt me. Jack, oblivious to my anxiety, sauntered along his way, still lecturing his former first mate.

"It's the honest ones you want to watch out for," he explained, finally coming to a halt, "because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly . . . stupid."

On 'stupid' I heard the hiss of steel on scabbard as Jack ripped the sword from the stone-skipping pirate, and then the splash as he was booted into the water. I jumped out, then, and lunged for the general direction of the gold idol Jack had been examining, scrabbling frantically around in the pile of coin and jewels where he had so carelessly tossed it. The waterlogged stone-skipper was now up out of the water, and having decided - no doubt correctly - that I could be finished off without the benefit of a blade, was lumbering toward me leering and growling in a manner most unpleasant.

He was almost on me when my hands closed over something promisingly cold, metallic and heavy. Incredibly heavy. Unbelievably heavy. I heaved it upward with every ounce of strength I possessed, just as he bent down, hands outstretched, reaching for my throat. His chin met the head of the idol with a resounding crack and he staggered backwards as if shot. I sat, stupefied, and watched in disbelief as he dropped, felled quite successfully into a state of complete oblivion. I eyed the ugly little gold man with new-found respect.

"Wow."

Will had effectively quelled the ugly fellow who guarded him, and Jack, meantime, had his hands full with Captain Barbossa himself. Blades flashed and flew, clanging with such ferocity that I had to cover my ears as I hurried over the piles - mountains - of booty to join Will on the rock that he seemed determined to claim for himself and no other.

"I am most gratified," he announced over the clang of weaponry, "to see that you are still alive, Miss."

"Same to you," I hollered back, my ears still covered. "Look, can you just tell me when it's over? Metal on metal has never been one of my favourite sound effects."

He smiled, apparently believing I was making a joke of some sort. But seriously. Ever caught your knife between the tines of your fork? Or ever bear down too hard cutting your dinner? That awful, spine-tingling squeal? Right up there with nails on a chalkboard, right? Yeah. And movie sound effects don't do sword-fighting justice. Most of it is clangs and rattles, yes, but every now and then there's that squeal, and it set my teeth on edge. I was hoping Will could spare me the worst of that.

Before he could agree to, though, he suddenly shoved me downward, and before I could yell at him to watch himself I realised he had done so to prevent my decapitation by the cutlass wielded by a grubby newcomer, so I could hardly get mad at him for that, right? Except he'd scraped my knee by shoving me so I sulked over that while he dispatched the skeletal being by hoisting him bodily off the rock and pitching him, too, into the water (blacksmiths- SO built) before turning and offering me his hand.

"I think we had best find ourselves a more advantageous position," he confessed, and seeing as he'd made it through his ordeal alive this far, I figured trusting him a bit more could hardly hurt. So I accepted his hand and let him haul me down, over the water to a small precipice closer to the exit. As we went, I heard Barbossa snarl to Jack,

"You're off the edge of the map, mate; here, there be monsters."

_Got that right_, I thought glumly, and then settled down beside Will to watch the fighting rage on. I couldn't sit still for long though because there's apparently a certain indefinable something about my head that says 'remove me from this body, please'; Will dispatched yet another pirate trying to oblige the request as I dove to the floor and Jack's boots skittered past my nose.

"You can't beat me, Jack," Barbossa gloated as they topped a ridge. Jack, determined to prove him wrong, plunged his sword straight through him. Barbossa almost seemed to sigh and roll his eyes before returning the favour, eliciting a horrified gasp from Will, who was standing over me.

Jack, though, staggered back, into the moonlight . . . where he promptly became skeletal. He stood there in a daze, or so it seemed, lifting first one hand and then another for detached scrutiny.

"That's interesting," he decided dazedly, then revealed the final piece of gold that he did not return to the chest, which he flipped playfully along his knuckles, grinning at Barbossa with a marked lack of shame. "Couldn't resist, mate," he confessed, and Barbossa lunged for him once more, and the battle resumed.

Will helped me up from the floor of the cave, and I thanked him briskly before setting to dusting myself off.

"You can go fight pirates, or something," I offered him, making a little shooing motion. "Go on, now. I don't mind, really."

He looked doubtfully at me and wondered, "you are certain? You'll be . . ."

"Oh, I'll be fine," I decided. "There's not that many left, and I feel kind of stupid with you mounting guard over me."

So he nodded and set off, receiving a quick word of apology from Jack as their paths almost collided. Then Jack and Barbossa danced perilously close to me, so I found myself seated on the floor again, rather embarrassed to be covering my head with my hands to avoid the flashing blades that twirled above me.

At last Jack smacked Barbossa's blade away decisively and the renegade Captain found he was seated beside me, leaning against the rock that shielded me as well as he panted just a bit and wondered, "so what now, Jack Sparrow? Will it be two immortals locked in an epic battle until Judgement Day and trumpets sound?"

Jack considered the suggestion, then made another one of his own.

"Or you could surrender."

Barbossa, clearly not thinking too much of this option, made a sort of 'arrr' sound then grabbed me by my arms and flung me upward at Jack, who was forced to quickly swing his blade wide to avoid slicing me open. He caught hold of me as Barbossa raced off, set me on my feet and instructed,

"Wait here, lo- lass," and then he was off again.

I'm telling you, these boys and their toys. _Really_.

000

Ginny has repeatedly assured me that she wasn't mad at me for leaving Elizabeth to do the rescuing on her own. After all, she pointed out, I knew as well as she did that Elizabeth was successful at it, so how could she be mad at me for entrusting the job to somebody I knew for a fact would do it right? I in turn countered that whether or not Elizabeth was successful was irrelevant; it mattered only that she was my friend and I should have been there to get her out of that cell. We had a bit of a fight over that but we eventually made up, and have agreed not to dwell on it, so I won't do so now. All you need to know now is that once Gibbs had shushed everybody before identifying their rescuer, Ginny claims she was completely ecstatic and nothing more. Not at all disappointed or mad at me. So we'll just take her word for it, and leave it at that.

Elizabeth had them out in a jiffy, and they were all up on deck in a great big group that Ginny claims felt like some sort of weird school tour. Elizabeth, Cotton and Anamaria swung the lifeboat at the two skeletons who were looking overboard, and then Elizabeth rushed to the fallen vessel, imploring everybody to help her. Ginny was willing enough but the two of them couldn't quite manage it, so Elizabeth turned to face everybody else in disbelief.

"Please, I need your help, come on!"

Cotton's parrot begged out with a doleful squawk. "Any port in a storm."

"Cotton's right," Gibbs agreed, "we've got the _Pearl_."

"What about Jack," Elizabeth demanded, "you're just going to leave him?"

"Never!" Ginny declared passionately, but the rest were not so devoted.

"Jack owes us a ship," one man drawled, and Gibbs added,

"There's the code to consider."

Elizabeth clearly could not believe her ears. "The code? You're pirates! Hang the code and hang the rules!"

"They're more like guidelines anyway," Ginny put in as quickly as she could, stealing Elizabeth's line mostly, she tells me, because she just loves that line, and thought it unfair that Elizabeth have the chance to say it _every_ time. I chose not to remark on her banditry at the time, and will refrain from doing so now, too.

Besides, love the line though she might, even she was not able to do it sufficient justice to sway the crew of the _Pearl_. She and Elizabeth ended up in the rowboat just the two of them, Elizabeth fuming and Ginny sympathetic as they rowed. Elizabeth's growl, she says, was pure poison.

"Bloody pirates."

000

000

One down, a bunch more to go! (I'm not going to commit myself to numbers because that usually turns out very badly somehow) Hope you're all enjoying and that you'll tell me so. Thanks a heap to those who already have!


	22. The final battle and a really great deat...

Next chapter! I'm not sure how much longer this is gonna take just cause I have midterms and a bunch of essays and projects due, but I really hope it's not going to drag on for too much longer. I'm really glad everybody's enjoying it, though, and want to thank you for all your encouragement. It means so much!

000

000

I'm ashamed to confess that I didn't even notice when Ginny and Elizabeth first arrived in the caves. In my defence, though, I will add that I was too busy running in frantic circles around a big pile of paintings in an effort to elude a particularly angry pirate with a great big knife to really even notice if the roof fell in. So maybe that was okay.

Anyway, I was doing a pretty good job at the eluding part, too, until suddenly he doubled back on me and I crashed right into his stomach. I did make an effort to kick him in any number of sensitive areas but the problem with undead pirates who can't feel anything is that they - well - can't feel anything, and so are pretty much impervious to pain. He grabbed hold of my arm and raised the sword he held in the other hand, and I was very proud of myself for not screaming - I just ducked my head and yelped a teeny bit - but before I could even brace myself for the blow another one descended, landing on the pirate instead of me. It drove him back away from me so fast I lost my balance and teetered dangerously on the edge of the underground lagoon before hands caught me, pulling me back to safety. Will, clearly about to decide that I was more trouble than any one person was worth, paused only long enough to make sure I still had my head attached to my shoulders before the pirate who had been trying to kill me decided to shift focus to Will instead, knocking him back with a spectacular right hook.

I can't even begin to tell you how guilty I felt at being the reason the pirate was looming over him, roaring, "I'm gonna teach you the meaning of pain!" But that wasn't half as guilty as I felt when Elizabeth appeared, because I realised it meant I'd somehow missed seeing her and Ginny come in. I've got this thing with guilt. I get it very easily. Anyway, Elizabeth had a massive golden staff in hand, and wielded it as she demanded dangerously,

"You like pain?" before swinging it at the fellow's midsection, knocking him fully off his feet and subsequently concluding, "Try wearing a corset."

"And how," a familiar voice agreed with an abundance of feeling, and I spun around to see Ginny standing behind me, certainly much grubbier and more tangled than she had been when I saw her last, but still in possession of all her limbs and undeniably alive. I shrieked with joy and tackled her, hugging her so tightly that I must have cut off what little oxygen the corset she still wore permitted her, because she started to squeak and wheeze and turn blue, forcing me to release her once more.

"You're alive!" I declared jubilantly, albeit somewhat foolishly, because of course she was. She didn't seem to mind the idiocy of my observation, though, and instead actually agreed with me that yes, she was more or less something of the sort.

"But maybe not for long," she added quickly, and hauled me down to the floor of the cave just in time to avoid something small and sharp that went flying through the air above us. "Geez, An, that thing almost took your head off. How'd you manage to survive this long anyway?"

"The Lord watches over the ways of the foolish," I misquoted shamelessly, scuttling across the floor in a sort of hunched-over fashion in an attempt to reach a more secure shelter, Ginny trotting along behind me. "Actually, Jack and Will and Elizabeth watch over the ways of the foolish. Or, in my case, the slightly accident-prone. The Lord just takes my calls and gives sound advice. Except lately I've been too busy to call, so if I lose my head or something like that then it's my own fault entirely, and- ooh, look at this, isn't it pretty?"

We took a moment to sit together and admire the emerald necklace I'd found before turning back around, comparatively shielded by a mountain of jewellery and silverware, to watch the fight rage on.

Jack and Barbossa were still locked in battle, and Elizabeth was gaping at them in disbelief, having first, apparently, made sure that Ginny and I had gotten ourselves out from underfoot and out of the way, where we belonged. At last she ventured to put a question to Will.

"Whose side is Jack on?"

Will considered the scene in front of them, and requested clarification.

"At the moment?"

Ginny giggled, then wanted to know, "So what happened since I saw you last, anyway? How was it on the island? Gibbs told me you'd gone overboard, and that's probably a good thing because I don't think you'd have liked the brig too much. It was pretty dirty. There was a dead rat. And how come you aren't wearing breeches like her?" she concluded, pointing at Elizabeth. "I can barely move in these things," she tugged angrily at her filthy skirts, which actually looked and smelled even worse than my own. "I'd kill for the chance to change."

So I took the time to explain to her more or less what had taken place once she had abandoned me in the blacksmith's shop, right up to our rescue following being marooned.

"I didn't get breeches," I concluded, "because apparently so long as I was clothed it was better than nothing. But Elizabeth was just in her undergarments or something, and they didn't think that was appropriate. So anyway, we broke out of the cabin and we split up. I came here and have been narrowly escaping death ever since, and she went to get you, and- and- here we are."

"Here we are," she agreed, and we spared a moment to watch as Elizabeth and Will strung three pirates together with the heavy staff before implanting a grenade in the middle fellow and divesting them of their moonlit form.

"No fair," the smoking unfortunate whimpered, and then they were gone.

"It's just like front row seats, isn't it?" I marvelled, and Ginny agreed it was.

"Only better," she amended, and I had to agree that it really was.

Then Jack and Barbossa came flying past us and we scrambled to rearrange ourselves, inadvertently tripping Barbossa up in the process, thus giving Jack the span of time he required to draw the blade of his sword down across his palm, bloodying both his hand and the medallion it held, before he tossed the bauble to Will, who was by then mounting guard over the gold.

Barbossa disentangled himself from us, snarling unintelligible curses and threats at the both of us as he lurched to his feet, and Elizabeth raced forward at the sight, although exactly how she intended to prevent him from skewering us where we lay I am still not sure. At any rate, the movement seemed to catch his eye, because instead of finishing his attack on us he raised his pistol to the side, aiming directly at her. She stopped dead at the sight and I let out a yelp of horror, as well as numerous kicks of protest that earned me an angry squeal and reproachful glare from Ginny, who lay half beside, half under and half on top of me (and yes, mathematically that is impossible, but that's sure what it seemed like at the time. Those skirts are a serious hazard when you're not used to them). Then the snap of a pistol echoed through the cavern and Elizabeth flinched, but Barbossa knew already that it had not been he who created it. Rather, as the smoke cleared it was Jack who stood, his own pistol levelled, his eyes dark and oddly unreadable as he stared at the man who had betrayed him.

Barbossa, in turn, seemed unsure as to whether he ought to be amused, pitying or scornful, and in the end settled for an even mix of both as he scoffed,

"Ten years you carry that pistol, and now you waste your shot."

Ginny and I had sorted ourselves apart by that point, and we scrambled off in separate directions on our hands and knees as the scene continued to play out.

"He didn't waste it," Will countered grimly, and opened his hand to reveal a slice of his own (I could only hope that none of them dropped dead from tetanus in a week) as he let the pair of medallions drop, bloodied, into the chest to join their comrades.

Barbossa, slightly uncomprehending, dropped his sword and drew back his chest to stare in wonder at the rich, ruby-dark stain that was spreading slowly outward from where Jack's ball had made its mark. Barbossa lifted his head, suddenly awash with sensations he had not felt in a decade.

"I feel . . . cold," he breathed, awed, then pitched back, the apple he clutched rolling from his hand, uneaten. I huddled down behind a lovely Romantic-style painting of a woman with an impossibly tiny dog, and tried my best not to feel sorry for him. I failed. It really wasn't fair, I thought- he should at least have gotten to eat that apple.

Ginny seemed dissimilarly inclined to pity, and scrambled up from her own place of refuge directly behind Jack, where I still maintain that she was unashamedly enjoying the view before she finally decided to speak up.

"Is he dead? For sure? Shouldn't somebody check his pulse or something? I mean, whenever they don't do that in the movies, it means the guy's just going to jump right up again after everybody's left and come back for the sequel. And not that I don't want him to come back for the sequel, but I'd really mostly rather he didn't come back - you know - while we're all still here. You know?"

I did, even if they didn't, so I plucked up the tattered remnants of my courage - I do have some. A bit. It's just more in evidence when I'm rested, washed, groomed, and nicely dressed - and stepped forward. I pressed my fingertips to his neck, satisfied myself that the blood had indeed stopped coursing, and passed along the news to Ginny, who met it with a welcome sigh of relief.

"Well. That's good. So," she beamed up at Jack, reaching to link her arm through his, "why don't you tell me all about what you've been up to since you left me in the brig?"

And, seeing as she was guiding him off toward a pile of booty to listen to him narrate as he plundered, and Will was off in a world of his own, I ventured to pick my way over to Elizabeth and wonder, "happen to have a hanky on you?"

She didn't, but between the two of us we managed to find among the plundered treasures a small box full of perfectly exquisite embroidered lawn handkerchiefs that I really did hate to soil with the purpose I had in mind. But really, I find that blowing my nose always makes me feel better, no matter what the problem, so I decided that I just had to sacrifice the handkerchiefs in favour of the cure. Then, that done, I carefully placed the box and its remaining bounty on a small rock all by itself, where it could be properly appreciated. Jewellery doesn't do you any good when your nose is dripping, after all, so in my opinion, those handkerchiefs were worth double their weight in gold.

Then, as I admired the box and its placement and Ginny helped Jack plunder, listening attentively all the while to his much-embellished tale of our misadventures, Will approached Elizabeth, who put forth an accurate and sensible proposition.

"We should return to the _Dauntless_," she observed, but Will, who was still smarting from the recent revelation that Elizabeth had given herself to another, was neither gracious nor tactful.

"Your fiancé," he agreed, "will be wanting to know you're safe."

I could have told him that even _I_ knew how tactless that comment was at that moment, but I was several yards away and he'd kind of ruined things for himself by then anyway. Elizabeth's face fell and she turned away, and I hurried after her in an effort to offer some form of comfort. Ginny, meanwhile, now bejewelled quite liberally with the help of numerous necklaces she had found, was following an equally well-garbed Jack over to Will's side. Ginny was also in possession of a truly magnificent sword that I knew she hadn't the slightest clue how to use, and as I watched her swing it happily about my mind filled with several horrible images of her lopping her own head off with the thing. Fortunately Jack deftly relieved her of it before she got the chance, and while she scowled at him he turned to address Will, brandishing the sword in the direction of my and Elizabeth's retreating backs.

"If you were waiting for the opportune moment . . . that was it."

Ginny bobbed her head vigourously in agreement and made a grab for the sword, which Jack easily eluded. He waggled a scolding forefinger at her, then returned his attentions to Will.

"Now if you'll be so kind, I'd be much obliged if you'd drop me off at my ship."

I gulped, turning my face away, not wanting to know what he was going to find out anyway, not looking forward to seeing his face when he realised what had happened. So I kept my head down low and scurried to make it to the boat, where I found the seat farthest from Jack and tried to look casually out at the water.

Will waited until Elizabeth and Ginny had gotten settled as well before he beckoned at Jack, and the two of them shoved us all off. Then they both scrambled in and Will took hold of the oars, while Jack turned to flash a smile at Ginny, who beamed back.

"Now, love," he gestured lazily at her, "I've been thinking, see, and I was wondering if maybe you wouldn't be interested in coming aboard with me'n the crew. We could find some sort of place for you . . . and you enjoy yourself on the _Pearl_, that's plain to see, so . . . what do you say?"

"Me!" Ginny gasped, her eyes widening. "Be a pirate!"

"That's the idea," Jack rolled his head to the side, watching her. "So?"

Ginny was clearly not about to turn him down, but before she could accept Elizabeth spoke up, her tones hesitant.

"Actually . . . Jack . . ."

"What," he swivelled his head to glance at her. "Don't tell me you want to join up, too."

"No!" she snapped, frowning. "No, Jack, it's only that- they're gone."

He blinked. "Beg pardon?"

"They're gone, Jack," her tones and face softened. "Your crew . . . they kept to the code. They took the _Pearl_ and left."

Jack's face grew very still after that, and he sat motionless, staring out across the water at points unseen. We rowed in weighty silence for a few minutes more until at last Elizabeth mustered the courage to speak again.

"I'm sorry, Jack."

His answer was grim, but his tones were surprisingly even when he answered.

"They done what's right by them. Can't expect more than that."

And so maybe he was right, and we couldn't, but somehow I just couldn't help but want to anyway.

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And that's another one done with! Not too many more to go at all, but as to time to complete it I'm really not sure, just because of everything else that's on my plate. But I do promise to do my best, and in the meantime, keep up all the wonderful feedback. It means so much to me!


	23. Three and a half heart to hearts

Surprise! This is (I think) the third to last chapter! I've got a day off work today, so I figured what the heck, two years is really too long to take writing any story! I'm going to try to tie it all up nicely before school starts again, and I appreciate all of the feedback I've received so far.

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It was a very gloomy bunch of people who were hauled aboard the _Dauntless_ in the wee hours of the morning. Will and Elizabeth were clearly felling bad for Jack, Jack was feeling sorry for himself, and Ginny was moping because she wouldn't get to be a pirate after all. Personally at that point I was too tired to even think straight, and I fell down twice before a nice man in British uniform scooped me up and carried me the rest of the way to the cabin, telling me that it was quite all right, I was safe now. I remember telling him to shove it, because I don't think I appreciated being scooped up like a sack of potatoes, but he was very polite and didn't answer me back. That was the last thing I remember about that night- I don't even remember reaching the cabin, since I fell asleep on his shoulder. However, I remember perfectly how I woke up the next morning with a hand covering most of my face in a rather slack, careless fashion.

I squinted through the fingers that were bearing down on my nose and forehead and saw an abundance of sunlight spilling in through the little windows, so I shoved the hand off my face and back toward Ginny, where it belonged. Surprisingly enough, she was sound asleep; normally I'm the late riser, but I was willing to bet Ginny had stayed up a lot later than I had the night before, so I didn't try to budge her. Instead I slipped out from under the blankets and shook out skirts that were creased beyond salvation. At least, I noted, somebody had loosened my corset. I only hoped somebody had been female.

Finding a tiny square of glass set above a weighty old bureau, I checked my reflection and made a few feeble attempts to put my hair to rights that ended in a disaster greater than the one it had been before I began, if such a thing were possible. Desperate for some pretense at civility, I finally tugged the whole mess free from its elastic and set to detangling with my fingers. It took me almost half an hour before I began to look like me again, whereupon I tied the curls all back up where they belonged and headed for the door, leaving Ginny snoring softly behind me.

Emerging onto the deck, I found myself blinded by the sunlight for a minute or two. When I finally blinked away the spots dancing before my retinas, I found that the workday was already in full swing. The men who hadn't lost life or limb to the previous night's battle were struggling with sails and cleanup, and they nearly had the place presentable again. There was no sign of Will, Elizabeth, Jack or Governor Swann, but I did recognise one person on deck; the Commodore was standing by the wheel trying to look as commanding and impressive as possible by clinging fiercely to what few vestiges of dignity remained to him. At least he still had his wig.

Sensing that beneath his attempts to maintain a refined exterior lay something close to a kindred spirit, I decided that he seemed the most likely prospect for a civilised chat. Skirting a few stray fingers and feet that were still being cleaned up by the crew, I found my way up to the bridge and made my presence known by coughing furiously into my fist. It took a few tries before I'd startled his Commodoreship from whatever private world he'd been off in, but once he had started slightly and turned to face me, I decided to do the civil thing and pretend he'd looked over right away.

"G'morning!" I chirped, and he shut his eyes slightly, as if a headache had suddenly come on. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"It has its merits, certainly," he agreed politely, and I frowned, having been looking for something more enthusiastic from a man newly affianced.

"Well, for you I'd think it would look rosy no matter what was going on," I scolded. "After all, you just got engaged yesterday, didn't you? That must be very exciting, surely. Shouldn't I congratulate you? You got her, after all." _Though a lot of good it'll do you_, I added silently.

"I did," he agreed, and again I couldn't help but feel that there was a distinct lack of vim on the part of the man who should have shown it the most.

"Well?" I prodded after another long silence. "Aren't you going to at least do a little dance, or something? A peppy little jig? Give a hoot and a holler and toss your hat in the air? I mean, really! You won!"

The smile he gave me now was small but, I felt, genuine, at least in the bitterness it betrayed.

"I have, haven't I?" he muttered, pressed his hand to his face. I studied his profile, decided I liked Jack Davenport better in Miss Marple than I did in the _Pirates of the Caribbean_, and adopted a much sterner tone.

"Look. James." He started violently, and I decided I'd overstepped some invisible line and back-pedalled gracefully. "Mister - Commodore - Norrington. Sir. May I be frank?"

"Can you be otherwise?" he wondered dryly, and I looked at him with surprised appreciation.

"Commodore! Was that a joke? Good for you! Now, where was I- yes. Permission to speak freely, Sir."

"Granted, though much good refusing it would have done me," he sighed, and again I was pleased to see this proof of his humanity. Emboldened, I plunged in.

"Right. Well. I see it this way. You've been pining after this girl ever since she was much too young for it to be anything but both gross and illegal, in this universe as well as my own, and now you've finally got her. She's yours. You get to marry her, drag her home, and make many nice little Commodores with her."

"Well, you know, the title is not heredit-"

"Shush, it's my turn right now. It was a figure of speech. So. You've won, it's over, and . . . you look like you're going to your own funeral, rather than your wedding day. Honestly! How is she supposed to feel when she comes out and takes a look at this face?" I pulled what I hoped was a reasonable imitation of his own sour, pinched expression, which immediately changed to one of pinched surprise that so amused me that I laughed and let it go.

"So maybe not that bad. But it's pretty grim, Sir. And what's more, didn't you finally catch Jack Sparrow? So maybe he was in the very dregs of defeat at the time, and actually held out his hands for you to manacle him; there's no real honour lost, is there, since all anybody back home has to know is that you caught him, right?"

As I'd expected, he looked over at me, suddenly sharp and somehow angry. I smiled.

"That's it, isn't it? That's why you're so upset. You're coming back home with a man you didn't really capture and a wife you didn't really win, because the both of them gave in for reasons of their own. It had absolutely nothing to do with you. And you," I was suddenly admiring, "are too much of a gentleman to feel good about it. That's very nice of you, Sir."

"Firstly," he smiled, looking as if he actually might mean it, "stop calling me Sir. I cannot help but feel you are mocking me when you do, so I would much rather you be presumptuous but genuine and call me James, than insincere when feigning to show me respect. Secondly, I believe you may be . . . not entirely incorrect in your assessment of my unique position and the emotions that accompany it. I will confess that I feel there is little honour in the manner in which I triumphed last night and yesterday. It has perhaps given me to greater disquiet than I am accustomed to experiencing. Nevertheless," he straightened up a bit, and I knew I was looking at the Commodore again, and not the rather shamefaced nice man who told me to be rude and call him James, "the fact remains that I have captured a pirate and . . . offered for and received the hand of a lady for whom I care very deeply. It would not be a man of honour who released either one at this point."

"Bull," I said cheerfully. "That's bull and you know it. You're just taking the easy way out, because you're too embarrassed to admit you were wrong to either one of them. But if it makes you feel better, Jimmy," I patted his arm, "you keep telling yourself that. You'll get it right soon enough."

That off my chest, I hummed softly to myself and skipped back to the cabin to tell Ginny she had slept long enough.

000

Ginny didn't receive my criticism too well. In fact, she called me some very nasty names as I opened the windows wide and yanked her pillow out from under her, telling her it was time to get up. I persisted, though, and soon had hauled her out from underneath the covers as well, considerably more the worse for wear than I myself was. Her outfit was in a complete, devastating shambles and her hair, if it was possible, was even worse than my own had been. It took the two of us a good forty-five minutes to just work out the worst of the knots.

"These guys on the ship all have long hair, right? So don't they ever use combs?" Ginny wondered, and I shrugged, yanking at a particularly stubborn blonde clump behind her ear.

"I think their hair is just so greasy it never gets tangled. They don't have shampoo, after all, remember? Not really, anyway. That, and the ones who wear wigs just keep their hair cut short. It's probably easier."

"Well, I'll cut mine off and get a wig too," she decided, and it took me the rest of the time we spent on her hair to convince her that going back to our own time and place with a shaved head would only cause her regret before too long.

Her clothing was harder to put to rights. Like mine, her dress was travel worn, but unlike mine it wasn't even recognisable for what it had been when we found it. The colour was easily six shades away from what it had been, but not in every place- saltwater had encrusted the hem, sun had bleached the skirts and sweat had stained the rest. I fussed over it, tugging and patting and twisting, until Ginny had finally had enough and shouted at me to get away from her before I gave her a headache. Wounded, I stepped back, told her I'd done all I could for her, and marched off again to find somebody more receptive.

Elizabeth and Will were still among the missing, so I decided to head down to the brig, where I found a solemn, sullen Jack fastened in a cell. I looked in sympathetically at him, and found I didn't really know what to say, so I sat outside and watched him for a while until at last he spoke to me.

"If the Commodore finds ye down here, lass, he might suspect ye of planning a rescue."

"In that case, I would instruct the Commodore to pull his head out of his nether regions and start talking sense," I replied just as calmly, and fancied I almost saw the corner of his mouth twitch up.

"You like to talk, don't you, lass?" he observed, and I beamed at him in real appreciation.

"How nice of you to notice, Captain. Yes. I do. I find if I talk long enough, what I'm saying starts to make sense."

"To you, maybe."

"Well, then at least I'll make sense to somebody, right?"

Jack considered this, then laughed softly.

"Aye, I suppose there's something in that . . . I never make much sense to anybody either, come t'think of it, so I'm hardly one t'be taking you to task, now, am I?" He swept his hat lazily off his head and executed a surprisingly elegant bow, for all that he was slumped over in a corner. I watched him, considering things for a minute or two, than ventured a question.

"Do you blame them? Your crew, I mean. Now that . . . well, now that you're going to die, and all."

"Tactful as ever, lass, I do thank ye for that." He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "Naw, I don't blame them. How can I? I'd have done the same t'any of them if it came to it, so I kin hardly be sore at them for treatin' me just as fair."

"That's just silly," I frowned, watching him. "You'd never have left even one of them behind, and you know it. You aren't like that. You're a pirate, but you aren't just a pirate, either. I told you once before and I'm telling you again that you're an honourable man. You're different from Barbossa and pirates like him. You're the sort of pirate Ginny wants to be. You're the sort of pirate she _would_ be, if she got a touch of sunstroke and lived in a different century. If you were any other sort, I wouldn't have come down to talk to you. I wouldn't have wanted to. I wouldn't have cared."

There was a long silence, and when Jack spoke, his voice was almost too casual; too offhand.

"Well that's very kind of ye, lass. For all the good it's doing me. You coming down and prattling about honour and such while I'm going to hang because me crew had none."

I scowled. "If I had something to throw at you, I would."

"I've not a doubt of it, lass." He yawned, stretched elaborately and settled his hat over his face. "Run along now, there's a good girl. His honourable Captain-ness needs to catch some sleep."

I scowled again, even though this one was wasted, since he couldn't see it. Gathering my skirts - now almost as salt-stained as Ginny's after sitting in the dregs of the ship - I stomped back up to the deck.

000

This time when I got there, I found both Will and Elizabeth had emerged, and looked like they hadn't slept a wink all night. The Commodore vanished soon after I appeared, so I took that as a hint and trotted over to the side to watch the water for a while. I was still watching the water when I felt somebody approach and stand beside me. Looking up, I found Will looking out to sea so bleakly that I got a little scared and reached out to touch his arm.

"You aren't going to jump, or anything, are you?" I asked warily, and he twitched a bit, as if he hadn't realised I was there.

"Oh . . . no . . ." he said vaguely, and I didn't believe him.

"Well, you had better not," I advised, frowning. "That would really mess up the plot line, you know."

He didn't seem to hear me, which was just as well. Instead he kept watching the ocean that we were sailing on, and after a minute or two I felt compelled to speak again.

"It's not over yet, you know."

"No?" He sounded almost as bitter as the Commodore, and I was surprised- I'd not have believe him capable of it. Up to now, he'd only ever been scornful or contemptuous, but they were the emotions of an idealistic young man. Now he sounded almost as old as my good buddy Jimmy. I didn't like to think of Will like that.

"No," I said firmly. "It's not."

"If you say so, Miss," he was icily deferential, and that got him a kick in the ankle because I didn't know what else to do to him to snap him out of it. Surprised and angry, he gave a fierce yell, and I stood with my hand on my hips and faced him.

"Serve you right. You're being stupid. If you give up now, you'll never get her, and Jack will never go free."

"Jack?" Will looked at me bleakly. "Jack is condemned. I am free - the Governor pardoned me last night; unofficially, but he assures me when we return home he will make the pardon official. I deserve it, he feels, for service to the Crown that far outweighed any crimes I might have committed while sailing under a pirate banner. But when I asked after Jack, he made it plain that for Jack there would be no pardon. So Jack is to die, and all for a favour I asked of him."

"No. No, no, no," I stomped my foot. "He doesn't have to. He won't, as long as you can just be smart about this and keep it together long enough to rescue him."

"Keep it together?" It was clear that the phrasing wasn't what amused him. "I've lost all chance of being with the woman I love, I've lost the man who was a friend to me, odd a friendship though it was . . . what's left to keep together?"

"Well if you can't see it, I'm sure not going to tell you," I huffed, and, figuring that was as good a line as any to bow out on, I did.

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Ta da! Two more chapters to go- well, one and an epilogue, I think, so not even two, really! Hope this sat all right with everybody. You guys have been awesome, and I'm sorry it's taken me this long to get it together and post again. It won't be long now.


	24. A grand climax and a touching denouement

Last chapter! Only an epilogue to be written, now. It's going to feel good to get this finally done! I actually did consider writing another chapter to go between this and the previous one, to feature some Ginny/Jack interaction (Ginny, if you're reading this, please don't hurt me for leaving it out!). In the end, though, I figured it was more important to me to just get the story finished. If there's enough demand for it or I find myself with enough time on my hands, I may write it and pop it into place later, but for now you can consider this the final chap. Enjoy!

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After we got back to Port Royal, everything was rather a blur. Ginny and I were delicately asked about our planned destination, and the only thing I could come up with was that our ship home was delayed, so we were cordially invited (by Elizabeth; Governor Swann, taking a look at the state of us, was more tentative than cordial) to return to the Governor's mansion and spend the night there. We were even welcome to attend the public hanging the next day, if we wanted. Apparently these were quite the treat.

"You want us to go watch him get _hanged?_" Ginny was appalled. "After all the time we spent with him? He saved our _lives_! And you want us to come watch him get the chop!"

"It's quite the sensation," the poor Governor tried to explain. "Everybody will be there . . . I've no doubt Elizabeth can supply you with the necessary- erm - accoutrements," he began to gesture at our travel-slaughtered garments, then apparently thought better of it and let his hand drop back to his side, "if you so choose."

"We'll think about it," I chirped, before Ginny could let rip the few words that seemed ready to boil out of her and, I had no doubt, colour the air around her deep blue. "Thank you very much."

We got away after that, shown into a room with a bed too soft to be believed and so many silken, hand-embroidered dainties decorating the walls and windows that I felt obliged to give a little sigh of bliss. Ginny had to laugh at the look on my face as I eased into a borrowed dressing gown and sank onto a bed so luxurious I nearly broke into song.

"Now I," I sighed dreamily, "could definitely stay here. I really could. You go pirate about on the high seas. I'll stay here and just live it up. As long as I don't remember the gross imperialism of the British, the prevalence of slave labour and the pending rebellion in 1795 . . . well I could really be happy here, couldn't I?"

Ginny said she somehow doubted it, and I threw a pillow at her that went wide. I was too tired to care, though, worn out from the past few days of an adventure I hadn't particularly wanted to have. I'm not sure at what point my closed-eye, luxurious-stretch position became one of deeply satisfied slumber, but once it had, it was a long time before I woke up.

000

In the end, I prevailed upon Ginny to come with us the next day and see the hanging. I think I was mostly successful because I was able to point out that there wasn't actually going to be a hanging; everybody just didn't know it yet. Elizabeth, for her part, was as good as Governor Swann's word, scurrying about and begging, borrowing and stealing pieces of outfits that would fit us, since none of hers came even close (she was a good head taller than the both of us, and thinner, too).

When Elizabeth had finally finished with her scrounging we had a surprisingly presentable outfit apiece, but I nearly backed out when I first tried on the shoes she'd found. High heeled, buckled and pinching, they felt as if they were crippling me with each step I took. Ginny made similar faces when she tried on her own, but once our hair was done, our faces dusted with powder and the dresses tugged, tucked and tied in place, we forgot our pain and the breath that was being stolen in favour of staring at ourselves in the cheval glass and sighing periodically. The glass in the mirror was a little wavy and distorted, but it was sufficiently clear for us to see we were looking enough not like pur ordinary selves to be a pretty impressive sight.

"Aren't we a bit dressed up to see a hanging?" Ginny ventured at last.

"Who cares?" I wondered, and we went back to admiring ourselves. We stayed rooted before the mirror until Elizabeth, wearing another London fashion with a waist tiny enough to challenge her for breath even more severely than ours did us, swept in as asked if we were ready.

"Well yes, except- what about hats?" I wondered, and realised I was finally getting the hang of timing my words to coincide with each outgoing breath, in order to conserve oxygen. Elizabeth brandished a pair of lace things that looked more like doilies than real hats, and Ginny and I got a good laugh out of trying to tie them on properly to hair that didn't feel like ours. Once we were hatted we figured that was about all we could do to make ourselves presentable, and with pinched feet, cinched waists and pomaded hair we wobbled our way down the stairs to meet our host and Elizabeth's intended, who looked just as taken at the sight of her as Will had at the start of the movie.

"Ladies, time and tide wait for no man, but I do avow they would pause for you," Norrington declared, and I couldn't help but notice that though he said ladies, he was really looking at Elizabeth. She smiled uncomfortably and shifted a bit, as if to loosen her footwear, or maybe keep her lunch down. I stifled a giggle, elbowed Ginny for not being able to stifle hers, and we all made our unsteady way out to where the carriage was waiting to take us to the hanging. Who knew bearing witness to a man's death could be so much fun?

000

I don't know if you're ever gone to watch anyone being hanged, or if you're ever likely to, but just in case you haven't and you are, here's a little piece of advice. If you've absolutely got to go, then it's best to be in company with the Governor when you do. It means you get preferred seating; pretty much the best in the house. While the Commodore tried to make small talk with Elizabeth, Ginny and I clung to the walls and took advantage of our placement to ogle the crowd that was gathering.

"Do you see Will?" I wondered, looking for the big hat. "Maybe he needs a little pep talk. This is kind of a crucial scene."

"No, I don't, and if anybody needs a pep talk, it's Jack," Ginny decided, scowling at the Commodore and the Governor, but the glare was lost on both of them. The Governor was chatting up a middle-aged lady near his vantage point and the Commodore was still struggling on with his bride-to-be. Still scowling, Ginny looked back toward the gallows, just as a murmur spread through the crowd at the sight of a bedraggled-looking Jack, hands bound and head lowered, being marched up the stairs to his doom.

The crowd was surprisingly silent as a noose was dropped over Jack's neck, and a pompous looking little official with a list in hand marched to the foreground and began to trumpet his grievances to the crowd.

"Jack Sparrow," he said majestically, "be it known that you have-"

I lost interest in him momentarily as I saw Jack's lips move, correcting the fellow under his breath as to the proper form of address for the gentleman about to be hung. I smiled in spite of myself, then turned my attention back to the little man with the big list as he droned on importantly.

"-for your wilful commission of crimes against the crown. Said crimes being numerous in quantity and sinister in nature, the most grievous of these to be cited herewith: piracy, smuggling-"

I hadn't noticed Elizabeth, her father and fiancé join us until Elizabeth herself spoke up, almost in my ear.

"This is wrong," she insisted unhappily, and her father shot a quick, almost embarrassed look in our direction before he delivered his answer.

"Commodore Norrington is bound by the law. As are we all."

"Well then the law is wrong!" Ginny piped up, but the looks shot at her by the commodore and the Governor were so black that she piped down and we listened to the man with the list drone on.

" . . . impersonating an officer of the Spanish Royal Navy, impersonating a cleric of the Church of England, sailing under false colours, arson, kidnapping, looting, poaching, brigandage, pilfering, depravity, depredation and general lawlessness. And for these crimes you have been sentenced to be, on this day, hung by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on your soul."

I thought maybe it might be appropriate to bow my head or something, or even to say "hear, hear" in a solemn tone, but before I could decide on either option Ginny dug her fingers into my arm and squealed, "there! There's Will!"

There, indeed, was Will, his magnificent hat shadowing his not entirely unmagnificent face as he came to stand before us. He did look a mite confused to see Ginny and me all got up as we were, but I'll give him this, it didn't stop him for long. He nodded most courteously to us all and acknowledged each of us.

"Governor Swann. Commodore. Ladies." A pregnant pause, and then, "Elizabeth. I should have told you every day from the moment I met you . . . I love you."

Ginny and I both let out a collective sigh as he turned his back and walked away, at the same time as the noose was slung over Jack's neck. My eyes were on the scene Will was heading toward, so I didn't see what Elizabeth saw- Cotton's parrot landing in a blaze of colour, squawking with a self importance that equalled if not surpassed that of the little man with his list. Elizabeth, seizing the moment, gasped artistically.

"Can't . . . breathe . . ." she panted, then dropped backward beautifully, diverting the attentions of both her father and her soon to be unintended from what really had to be some of the best cinematography of the film.

"Elizabeth," the governor gasped, and together he and Norrington bent down to tend to her. It's amazing how strong the urge was, too, even though I knew she was fine. It was only with a considerable effort that I managed to stay focused on Will as he surged through the crowd, bellowed for people to move, and hurled his sword at precisely the right moment. Even had he thrown it a nanosecond later, I realised, and he'd have killed Jack before the noose did. Not an entirely pretty thought.

"Lookit!" Ginny squealed, her thoughts clearly running less to the grim and more to the gleeful, "lookit, there they go!" She watched a moment longer, and then was struck by a thought. "I'm going with them!"

"You're wha- Ginny, _no_!" I stared in horror as she swept herself down off of our little area and into the crowd. It parted for her as smoothly as the Red Sea, and in no time at all she was launching herself wholeheartedly at a soldier who had been foolish enough to take a swing at Jack while she was watching. I flinched, decided she could hardly be expected to take on the majority of His Majesty's militia by herself, and scurried down after her.

I was glad I had done so, too, when I arrived just in time to stop the soldier Ginny had tackled from clouting her with his sword hilt. Hanging off his arm to stop him from popping her one, I started to babble incoherently about my poor, dear friend who was not in her right mind and mean no harm, truly. Although I'm sure after hearing half of what I said about her Ginny wanted to take his sword and do a number on me herself, at least the soldier decided he didn't have to put her on the gallows along with Jack.

No sooner had I dealt with that mess, though, than Ginny decided to run after Will and Jack herself, and as luck would have it she joined up with the pair just as the soldiers encircled all three of them. She, having no sword with which to meet the many thrust in their faces, squeezed herself in between Will and Jack, and watched intently. Jack, focused though he was on the men surrounding them, spared her a sideways glance and a crooked grin.

"Well, hello again, luv. You're about as much a bad penny as meself, now, aren't you? You just keep turning up."

Delighted to be categorised with Jack in any manner at all, Ginny could only nod happily, and ask him if she could try on his hat. Before he could answer, though, Elizabeth, Norrington and a very harassed looking Governor Swann all came rushing up to join me on the outskirts of the mess. The presence of the commodore encouraged the soldiers to step aside enough to let us all in closer, and Norrington's own sword joined the bunch levelled at the odd-looking trio his men had captured.

"I thought we might have to endure some manner of ill conceived escape attempt," he admitted, a slight sneer twisting his words, "but not from _you_." He glared at Will, and then the glare melted into an expression of puzzlement as he saw Ginny huddled between the two of them, grinning like a kid at Christmas. "Miss, what in the world are you-"

"Don't ask," I muttered, frowning at her as sternly as I could, when all I wanted to do was burst out laughing at the sight of the three of them. They had all the makings of a really great comedy group- the lady, the dandy and the pirate. I was mentally composing their opening act (it involved a parrot, a pug dog and seventeen banana peels) when Governor Swann's indignation broke through.

"On our return to Port Royal I granted you clemency, and this is how you thank me? By throwing in your lot with him? He's a pirate!"

"And a good man," Will added fiercely, prompting Ginny and Jack to both point to Jack in proud confirmation. "If all I have achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it. At least my conscience will be clear."

Norrington, apparently disliking the implication that his conscience was less than sparkling, growled, "You forget your place, Turner."

"It's right here," Will said firmly, "between you and Jack."

Before anyone could react to that bit of presumption, Elizabeth slipped past her father and stood next to Will. "As is mine."

"Elizabeth!" Poor Governor Swann looked one step away from apoplectic as he turned to the soldiers. "Lower your weapons. For goodness' sake put them down!"

The fellows did, but grudgingly. The bloodlust was flushed on their cheeks and gleaming in their eyes, and I'm sure they were salivating at the thought of getting all four of them skewered, strung up or both. Norrington, though, looked as if somebody had stuck one of the swords in his own stomach by accident as he stared at Elizabeth, heartbroken and trying not to show it.

"So this . . . is where your heart truly lies, then?"

Elizabeth had the grace to look subdued as she confirmed, "it is."

Before anybody else could comment on this fine to-do, Jack's eye lit on the parrot, which was waiting patiently to be noticed after its initial fine entrance in the almost-final scene.

"Well!" he spoke up briskly, "I'm actually feeling rather good about this." Scooting over to stand by Governor Swann, he prattled on. "I think we've all arrived at a very special place, eh? Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically . . ." He turned to look at Norrington, this time with all the sympathy of one man to another. "I want you to know that I was rooting for you, mate. Know that."

He turned, then, and twinkled at me, doffing his hat with exaggerated grandeur. "Have yourself a grand day, luv. Don't ever let anyone take the starch out of that upper lip of yours, eh? And you be sure t'keep that friend of yours close by, where you can keep an eye on her. Elsewise I'll be having her for my crew!"

In the face of my amusement and Ginny's elation he turned toward the battlements, then paused, casting a regretful look at our hostess. "Elizabeth . . . it would never have worked between us, darling. I'm sorry. Will, nice hat." Then, grandly, as he backed toward his escape route, "Men! This is the day that you will always remember as the day that you-"

I do wish he'd got the chance to say it all, but somehow it was funnier that before he could finish, his boots caught against the stone and tipped him head over teakettle over the edge, and down he went. As one we flocked to the edge and looked down, just in time to see him resurface and strike out for sea.

"Idiot," Gillette, that pompous little git, scoffed. "He has nowhere to go but back to the noose!" No sooner had the little marshmallow spoke, though, than a sentry's deep bellow cut through our midst.

"Sail ho!"

Obediently we all looked toward the horizon, and there she was- Jack's _Pearl_, skimming her way toward him to take him back where he belonged. Gillette, now far less sure of himself, quickly passed the buck to Norrington.

"What's your plan of action? Sir?"

Norrington appeared about to speak, then stopped himself. Gorvernor Swann glanced sideways, swallowed a bit and then ventured to make a suggestion.

"Perhaps on the rare occasion pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself can be the right course?"

Norrington smiled, then, and I liked him all over again, just because no man who can admit he was wrong is ever beyond hope. Turning to Will, he spoke with frigid hauteur. "Mr. Turner."

Elizabeth looked ready to leap in front of Will all over again, but he spoke calmly and I liked him just as well as I did Norrington because again, any man who can admit he was in the wrong, even if it didn't feel it at the time . . . well, that's a good man.

"I will accept the consequences of my actions," he told her, and she looked so distraught I didn't like to look at her, so I watched Norrington, instead, as he raised his weapon and contemplated it for a moment before speaking.

"This is a beautiful sword. I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life."

For a moment poor Will couldn't believe what he was hearing, but when he had, the most amusing look of understanding flashed between the two of them. Then it was gone, and Will was every inch as proper as dear old James when he answered, "Thank you."

Then Gillette, that insufferable little twit, spoiled the mood when he burst out "Commodore! What about Sparrow?"

I couldn't help it- I started toward him, not sure what I was going to do but definitely sure I wanted to hurt him. Before I got more than a step in that direction, though, Ginny caught my arm and looked at me in mild surprise.

"An! I just can't take you anywhere, can I?" she scolded, and while I sputtered at this unjust remark, Norrington looked at Gillette with something almost like pity.

"Well," he decided, "I think we can afford to give him one day's head start."

The lot of them started to slip away, then, but the Governor looked back at his daughter and wondered uncertainly, "so, this is the path you've chosen, is it? After all . . . he _is_ a blacksmith."

A fair observation, maybe, but hardly polite especially right in front of Will, who looked pretty crushed when he heard it. Elizabeth, though, was sterling worth. She smiled sweetly up at Will.

"No," she decided, sweeping his hat from his head, "he's a pirate."

Ginny and I clamped down on our delight as the Governor turned on his heel, and Elizabeth reached up to kiss Will beneath the blazing midday sun. I tried to focus on the pair of them, wanting to see the kiss, but the more I tried, the hotter and brighter the sun got. I squinted and shielded my eyes as the light became more and more dazzling, until finally the heat, combined with my heavy dress and packed-in stomach got to be too much. Waves roared inside my head, my stomach rose in my throat and the sky came crashing down around me. My knees refused to hold me up and I fell forward to meet the ground.

As blackness rose up before me I thought it was funny, surely I ought to have hit the dirt by now. But no, I was falling, falling . . . and still I kept falling as the darkness swallowed me whole.

000

000

Done! Except for the epilogue, of course, and that's not going to take long at all.

For the interest of the historically minded, public hangings really were quite an event back in the day. Everybody went out to watch, which had to be hard on the poor sot getting the rope, but great fun for the more viscerally-inclined of the population, I'm sure. Even the upper classes were known to reserve rooms with a good view of the gallows, so as not to miss the fun. I guess without cable TV you had to take what you could get!

I would also like to credit Norrington's "time and tide" line as being loosely borrowed from _Shakespeare in Love_, which is not horrible movie, exactly, you just have to resign yourself to a much prettier Shakespeare than history gives us leave to expect. It's not too tricky, honestly.


	25. An eensy weensy epilogue

And this right here is an epilogue. It's the (insanely brief) part of the story that comes between the first story and the prologue of the next one (and yes there is a distinct possibility that there will be a next one. I'm sorry, I know I thought you'd be safe, but I value my sanity more than I value yours, and Ginny is the one who will sic the Kraken on me if I don't give her a sequel. So. Sequel is very possible)

In the meantime, here's a very quick wrap-up to a crazy-long adventure. Thank you all so much for your continued support, and I look forward to seeing you for the next one!

000

000

Ginny and I clamped down on our delight as the Governor turned on his heel, and Elizabeth reached up to kiss Will beneath the blazing midday sun. I tried to focus on the pair of them, wanting to see the kiss, but the more I tried, the hotter and brighter the sun got. I squinted and shielded my eyes as the light became more and more dazzling, until finally the heat, combined with my heavy dress and packed-in stomach got to be too much. Waves roared inside my head, my stomach rose in my throat and the sky came crashing down around me. My knees refused to hold me up and I fell forward to meet the ground.

As blackness rose up before me I thought it was funny, surely I ought to have hit the dirt by now. But no, I was falling, falling . . . and still I kept falling as the darkness swallowed me whole.

000

I woke with a sudden, violent start as the music struck up around us, the credits rolled and the lights came on. Ginny twitched beside me, and I instantly apologized for kicking her. She blinked at me, and it took me a second to realize that I was once again in my shorts and tank top, air conditioning was rushing over us both, and my hair was marvelously, miraculously smooth and orderly.

I felt more human than I had in . . . two hours?

Could it really have only been two hours since the movie started?

I must have looked as confused as I felt, because Ginny asked me, with some concern, if I was going to be sick or something. I told her I wasn't, but didn't say anything else as I bent to collect my purse. Honestly, I didn't know what to say. If Ginny wasn't going to start talking about us getting sucked through a movie screen, I certainly wasn't going to bring it up. Let her be the one to look crazy first, I decided, and perhaps she was thinking the same thing, because neither of us spoke on the way out to the car.

"It gets better the third time around," I offered at last, as we drove through the darkened streets toward home. Ginny made a sound that might have been assent, and might just have been acknowledgement. "Did you fall asleep too?" I asked at last, and she took longer to answer before finally, cautiously, she said that she thought she had.

"Gonna come with me to see the sequel?" I wondered, and this time, as she spoke, there was no hesitation at all.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

We talked about other things the rest of the way home.

000

000

Done!

Here is the place where the review replies would normally go; unfortunately, in order to comply with guidelines I will no longer be offering in-text review replies. In fact I will also have to go back and delete all the old ones, just to be on the safe side. From now on I'll use the 'reply' feature on any signed review I get (unsigned reviews, unfortunately, don't offer me that feature! But if you give me your e-mail, I'll try to get one to you that way. I really do value the feedback, and I want to make sure you all know that!)


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